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PETER 

The Story of Little Stoutheart 


BOOKS BY CLARENCE HAWKES 

The great love of this author for animals, 
his remarkable knowledge of them, and his 
gift for sprightly narrative, invariably enter¬ 
taining to younger readers—and their elders 
as well—are shown at their best in these 
handsome books. 

Cloth * Illustrated / Jackets in Color 
EACH VOLUME $ 1.50 


DAPPLES OF THE CIRCUS 

The Story of a Shetland Pony and a Boy 

All the attractiveness of circus life, with no false 
glamour. 

A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 
An Airedale Kero 

A heroic dog wins the Croix de Guerre in the 
World War. 

JUNGLE JOE, PRIDE OF THE CIRCUS 

The Story of a TricTc Elephant 

The friendship between a bright boy and a young 
elephant endures from the Malay jungle to a career 
in America. 

BING 

The Story of a Small Dog’s Love 

How kindness to a pet animal brought a rich 
reward. 

PETER 

The Story of Little Stoutheart 

A remarkably intelligent fox terrier’s devotion to 
his master and mistress. 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 

BOSTON 










“Rats Cried Mr. Browning .—Page 176 











PETER 

The Story of Little Stoutheart 


BY 

CLARENCE HAWKES 


Illustrated by 

GRISWOLD TYNG 




BOSTON 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 




TZio 

.3 

■ H3I3 
Co p y 2. 


Copyright, 1931, 

By Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 
All Rights Reserved 
Peter 



Printed in U. S. A. 

SEP 18 193! 


©CIA 42438 




TO EVERY DOG- 
LOVER WHO READS THIS 
BOOK AND LOVES PETER, 
THIS VOLUME IS AFFEC¬ 
TIONATELY DEDICATED. 













TO MY LITTLE FOX TERRIER 


How we love you, little Stoutheart, 
With your winsome, playful ways, 
Filling all the house with gladness, 
Cheering all the darksome days. 

You are such a Little Joker, 

Playing pranks upon your folks, 
Hiding shoes and gloves and brushes, 
Making laughter with your jokes. 

If a cloud hangs o’er the household, 
You will always find it out, 

And with funny doggish capers, 
Help to put the grief to rout. 

If good fortune comes to greet us, 

It is mirrored in your glee, 

You are just a small dog echo 
Of our joy and misery. 

And you know just how to comfort, 
Place your nose within my hand, 

Tell me that a dog is sorry, 

And a dog can understand. 

How your generous spirit shames me 
Puts to blush my meagre own, 
Loving without thought of profit, 
Sharing e’en a scanty bone. 

7 


Fighting for your friends and household, 
Giving all your strength and breath, 
Standing steadfast in great danger, 
Fighting even unto death. 

Could I find a friend so faithful 
’Midst the human friends I know, 

I would prize him as a jewel, 

And I’d never let him go. 

Little Stoutheart, in my bosom 
Beats a love and pride in you, 

Which will stay with me forever, 

Just as you yourself are true. 

And if through the gates of Heaven, 

I shall never see your face, 

It will be a lonesome landscape, 

And no Heaven in the place. 


8 


CONTENTS 


To My Little Fox Terrier . 

• • 

PAGE 

7 

Introduction. Without the 

Gate 

13 

I. 

The Mistress Meets a 

man 

Gentle- 

23 

II. 

A New Dog Comes 
Acre 

to Bird 

42 

III. 

Getting Acquainted 


58 

IV. 

The Little Defender 


72 

V. 

The Extra Passenger 


93 

VI. 

The Fugitive’s Return 


107 

VII. 

Peter, the Pal 


123 

VIII. 

Kidnapped 


141 

IX. 

From Bad to Worse . 


155 

X. 

Peter to the Rescue 


180 

XI. 

The Empty House . 

• • 

198 

XII. 

A Dog’s Love . 

• • 

204 


9 




























ILLUSTRATIONS 


“Rats!” Cried Mr. Browning (page 

176) . . . . Frontispiece 

PAGE 

“Halt! Who Goes There? ” . . 33 


He Peeped in at the Inhabitants . 44 

Just a Bit of Dog Tomfoolery . . 62 

He was Most Polite to the Cats . 76 

He Banged into the Police Dog . 83 

He Sent Him Sprawling ... 87 

Right through the Open Window . 101 

Peter Accepted the Invitation . . 114 

A Policeman Appeared . . .117 

They Journeyed farther Afield . 127 

He Preferred to Chase Butterflies . 129 

Something was Wrong . . .146 

There was a Terrible Crash . .162 

Peter Advanced upon the Bull . 185 

No One Could Steal Anything . .195 


An Aching Void . . . . .199 

All Other Questions were Forgotten 212 


11 



INTRODUCTION 


WITHOUT THE GATE 

“ Without are dogs ” is a statement in 
the Revelation of St. John that is often 
quoted to prove that the so-called lower 
animals have neither part nor parcel in 
man’s immortality, and that when he says 
good-bye to them in this earthly life it is 
for all time. The argument that is usually 
given in support of this line of reasoning 
is that since the human soul is the whole 
of man that survives death and the grave, 
and since the animals are not possessed of 
souls, they cannot, of course, experience 
immortality. 

This argument at once raises the point 
as to just what man’s soul is and what its 

13 


14 PETER 

component parts are. They are usually 
described as faith, hope, trust, fidelity, 
and love. These attributes are supposed 
to lift man above his human level and 
make him godlike. Thus he escapes an¬ 
nihilation. But do not such animals as 
dogs often manifest the same qualities, 
and if they are evidence of a soul in man, 
why not in the lower animals? 

Job once said, “Though he slay me, 
yet will I trust in him.” Such faith as 
this is much more often the faith of a dog 
than it is the faith of a human being. 
Many a surgeon could testify, if he would, 
that the dog on the vivisection table, which 
he sent to an untimely end, licked his hand 
as a last act of love before he went out 
into the great dark. 

Who that has looked into the fear-filled 
eyes of an old dog as he neared his end 
has not appreciated his fear and horror 


WITHOUT THE GATE 15 

of the unknown before him, and the 
lingering hope of good to come that was 
entirely human in its pathos? Few mor¬ 
tals trust as does a dog his master. He 
is as sure of his master as he is of the 
fact that he lives and breathes. In this 
one person his sun rises and sets. No 
matter how sorry a mortal he may be, yet 
he is all in all to the faithful dog. 

As for fidelity, that is just another 
name for dog. He is faithful and true as 
few mortals know how to be, giving all 
and asking nothing, willing and glad to 
serve, because it is his nature to be faith¬ 
ful. 

As for love, few human beings know 
how to love with the constancy of a dog. 
Fame, position, and creed or color matter 
nothing to him if you are his master. 
You are the one person in the whole world 
for whom he would lay down his life, and 


16 


PETER 


we are told on high authority that this is 
the greatest test of love. 

It is no sign because an animal walks 
on four legs and man on two that the man 
is more upright than the animal. We 
cannot differentiate in that way. In the 
fifteenth chapter of First Corinthians we 
read: 

“ But God giveth it a body as it hath 
pleased him, and to every seed his own 
body. 

“ All flesh is not the same flesh: but 
there is one kind of flesh of men, another 
flesh of beasts, another of fishes, and an¬ 
other of birds.” 

Ernest Bell, editor of Animal 3 s Friend, 
a valuable magazine published in London, 
gives in “ An After-life for Animals ” 
strong arguments to prove that there is a 
life beyond for the lower animals that 
possess intelligent souls. 

Agassiz, the greatest scientist we have 


WITHOUT THE GATE 17 

ever had on this continent, and a man of 
profound religious convictions, was a firm 
believer in some future life for lower 
animals. He says: “Most of the argu¬ 
ments of philosophy in favor of the im¬ 
mortality of man apply equally to the 
permanency of the immortal principle in 
other living beings.” 

Mrs. Mary Somerville, who was a mem¬ 
ber of the philosophical societies and 
academies of science both in England and 
in Germany, and who was noted, the 
world over, for her scientific knowledge 
and womanly virtues, when speaking on 
the subject of death, said: “ I firmly be¬ 
lieve that the living principle is never ex¬ 
tinguished. I am sincerely happy to find 
that I am not alone in believing in the 
immortality of the lower animals.” 

Miss Frances Power Cobbe, of Eng¬ 
land, a noted writer, says: “ I will venture 


18 


PETER 


to say plainly that, so far as appears to 
me, there is no possible solution that 
the existence of animals ends at 
death. It is absolutely necessary to pos¬ 
tulate a future life for the tortured dog, 
cat, or horse, if we would escape the un¬ 
bearable conclusion that a sentient crea¬ 
ture, unoffending, nay, incapable of giv¬ 
ing offense, has been given by the great 
Creator an existence which, on the whole, 
has been a curse. That conclusion would 
be blasphemy. Rejecting it with all the 
energy of our souls, we find ourselves 
logically driven to assume the future life 
of lower animals.” 

Reverend J. G. Wood, author of “ Man 
and Beast,” says: “ I feel sure that ani¬ 
mals will have the opportunity of develop¬ 
ing their latent faculties in the next world, 
though their free scope has been denied 
them in the short time of their existence 


WITHOUT THE GATE 19 


in the present world. They surpass many 
human beings in love, unselfishness, gen¬ 
erosity, conscience, and self-sacrifice. I 
claim for them a higher status in creation 
than is generally attributed to them, and 
claim they have a future life in which they 
can be fully compensated for the suffer¬ 
ing which so many of them have to under¬ 
go in this world.” 

If any more witnesses are needed in 
behalf of the dumb animals, we might 
summon to the witness stand Plutarch, 
Huxley, Darwin, Matthew Arnold, 
Richard Wagner, Sir Walter Scott, 
Wordsworth, Southey, Martin Luther, 
Gladstone, all of whom have been willing 
and glad to give the dumb animals a place 
in a future life. 

As for me, heaven will be a dreary 
place if I cannot look out through its 
gates, provided I ever get inside, and 


20 


PETER 


see a goodly company of faithful dog 
friends disporting themselves on the grass 
outside. I should also expect to see a 
little black saddle-horse come trotting 
across the celestial meadows to the pearly 
gates and stick his nose inside to rub his 
face affectionately against my arm or to 
search in my pocket for lumps of sugar. 

I do not think there is any great ad¬ 
vantage in jasper pavements, which would 

at least be hard on the feet, but I would 

■ « 

much prefer green grass, and running 
brooks, and friendly trees, and the old 
sweet friendship of all the so-called lower 
animals that, on earth, had been my 
friends indeed. 


PETER 

The Story of Little Stoutheart 



I 



PETER 

The Story of Little Stoutheart 

CHAPTER I 


THE MISTRESS MEETS A GENTLEMAN 

Mr. and Mrs. Browning were sitting 
in the large sunny living-room at Sun¬ 
shine Cottage where a pleasant wood fire 
made the room cosy and comfortable, 
although it was dreary and quite desolate 
outside. On this afternoon, fast-moving 
wind clouds were scudding across a dark 
November sky, while their counterparts, 
great dark shadows, ran rapidly across 
the landscape. The boisterous wind was 
kicking up showers of leaves and sending 
them scurrying across the common of the 


23 


24 PETER 

broad street in Shadyville. The great 
elms were lifting their arms pathetically 
toward heaven, imploring, as it were, with 
their leafless palms for the return of sun¬ 
shine and warmth. Bird Acre, which had 
been so attractive in summer time, so 
beautiful with flowers, and so vocal with 
birds, was nearly forsaken. A few spar¬ 
rows and starlings chirped and scolded 
in the pear trees, while a large bed of 
chrysanthemums was all that remained of 
the flowers. Even though it was cold and 
rather forbidding outside, yet in the 
living-room it was quite the opposite, for 
the bottled sunshine in an oak log on the 
grate was radiating through the room. 

Mrs. Browning sat by the fireside read¬ 
ing in a woman’s magazine, while her hus¬ 
band sat in his easy-chair close to the 
center table. He was supposed to be 
thinking up a plot for a new book. Pres- 


A GENTLEMAN 25 

ently he reached over to the table and 
picked up a book and turned its pages 
abstractedly. His forehead was knit in a 
frown of perplexity. Then Mrs. Brown¬ 
ing looked up. 

“ What are you thinking of, Law¬ 
rence? ” she asked. “You look as though 
you were trying to unravel some knotty 
problem. What is it? A penny for your 
thoughts/’ 

“ They are not worth it,” replied the 
man. “ I do not like to express any but 
cheerful thoughts, and these are rather 
somber ones.” 

“ Well, never mind, let’s have them,” 
returned the woman. “ I guess I can en¬ 
dure it. What were you puzzling over? ” 

“ Well,” returned Mr. Browning, 
slowly thumbing the pages of his book, 
“ I was just wondering where little 


Dannie is.” 


26 


PETER 


“ Wondering where he is,” exclaimed 
Mrs. Browning incredulously. “ You 
ought to know if anybody does. You 
helped the boys dig his grave under the 
sweet-apple tree, and helped them put 
him in it, and I covered him with flowers. 
Then we all stood around while he was 
buried. He is out in the orchard, of 
course. Why did you ask such a foolish 
thing? ” 

“ I’m not so sure it is foolish,” returned 
the man. “ I am not at all sure he is out 
there. Of course, we buried the little 
house he used to live in. It wasn’t fit for 
him to inhabit any longer. But as for 
him, I do not really believe we could bury 
him, not the real Dannie. Pie was more 
than a dog. He was a personality, a 
character, an expression of friendship, 
fidelity, and love, and we cannot bury 
such things, can we? ” 


27 


A GENTLEMAN 

“ Well, I don’t know that we could,” 
returned the woman, “ if we look at it in 
that way. I wasn’t even thinking of those 
things. Guess I must have been thinking 
of the little house. Of course that was 
buried.” 

Mrs. Browning resumed her book, and 
her husband his cogitations, and perfect 
silence reigned in the room for fifteen 
minutes. Finally the woman arose. 

“ I am not going to stay around here 
straining my brains over any such abstract 
proposition as that,” she said at last. “ I 
am going to get out the car and go to 
Meadowdale. Don’t you want to come? ” 

“ I guess not to-day,” replied Mr. 
Browning. “ I have some work to do. 
You go ahead, and I will try to write the 
first chapter of that book. I must get 
started if I am ever going to do it.” 

Half an hour later the car rolled out of 


28 


PETER 


the yard, and Mr. Browning sat down 
before the typewriter. He placed several 
sheets of paper on the corner of the desk 
close by. He intended to write a long 
chapter, but instead he put one sheet into 
the machine and then sat thinking for a 
considerable time. Finally he began writ¬ 
ing slowly, a line at a time, and then 
stopping to think. But at last he re¬ 
moved the paper from the typewriter and 
gave it up. He could not write that day. 

Instead, he went out into the kitchen 
and took down a forlorn empty little dog 
collar which hung on a nail in one corner 
of the room. He carried it back into the 
study and sat down in the easy-chair, 
sadly fondling the collar. It was the one 
thing that reminded him most poignantly 
of little Dannie, for it had gone with him 
spring, summer, autumn, and winter, on 
the trot and on the gallop, up and down 


A GENTLEMAN 29 

the streets of Shadyville, and across Bird 
Acre, into the house and out. And the 
tin tag on the collar was the sign that 
little Dannie had been licensed to live 
another year in this rushing, hurrying 
world where there are so many perils to 
dogs. 

As Mr. Browning sat in his chair 
fingering the dog collar, that last tragic 
night a month ago came back to him in 
all its pathetic details. There had been an 
accident two days before. A baker’s car 
while backing out of the back yard had 
run over little Dannie’s hind leg as he lay 
munching a bone under the rosebush. 
There had been an agonized cry, and he 
had rushed about the yard shrieking 
pathetically. But as he had been an old 
dog and had been troubled with rheuma¬ 
tism for a year or two, it was not known 
at the time whether any serious damage 


30 


PETER 


had been done or not, for after a little 
his cries of distress had ceased. He had 
not seemed to be in great pain, so the 
master and mistress had nursed him them¬ 
selves without summoning a veterinary. 

For two days they had hovered over 
him day and night. But on the third 
evening Mr. Browning heard him whim¬ 
pering pathetically in his kennel in the 
cellar close to the furnace, so he went 
down to see him. The dog seemed to be 
in great pain, and nothing that the de¬ 
voted master and mistress could do helped 
for long, so finally the veterinary was sent 
for. He had seen almost at a glance that 
the hip was broken, although it had not 
been apparent to the dog’s friends, even 
in two days. 

“Iam very sorry,” he said, “ but there 
isn’t a single thing you can do. He is an 
old dog, anyhow, and the only possible 


A GENTLEMAN 


31 


thing to do is just to put him to sleep. 
He never will know what happens.” 

A hurried consultation of the master 
and mistress had ap£>roved this plan, 
tragic as it seemed. The kind doctor 
made his preparations, but he had no help 
from the man and woman. For Mr. 
Browning put on his hat and hurried up 
the street to the market, where he and 
little Dannie had often gone together. 
The mistress went out in the orchard as 
far from the house as she could get and 
still not trespass on her neighbors. Five 
minutes later the man and the woman 
stole back to the house, hardly daring to 
return, yet knowing that they must, for 
there were other things to do for little 
Dannie. 

“ He went to sleep like a baby,” said 
the doctor. “ You didn’t need to leave 
the place. The distressed look on his face 


32 


PETER 


is gone. The only thing to do now is to 
get another dog.” 

This was the pathetic scene which Mr. 
Browning rehearsed as he sat in his easy- 
chair fingering the dog collar. Finally he 
went back to the kitchen and returned it 
to the nail, but as he hung it up he asked 
himself once more, “ Where is little 
Dannie? ” It was impossible that all his 
love, fidelity, and friendship had been 
lost, for such things do not die. Like all 
other things that are good and true, they 
are immortal. 

Meanwhile Mrs. Browning was meet¬ 
ing with an adventure. Arriving at 
Meadowdale, she turned the car off Main 
Street into one of the side streets and 
parked it about a hundred feet from the 
main thoroughfare. After having hung 
her shopping bag upon her arm and 
locked the car, she started back to Main 


A GENTLEMAN 


33 



halt! who goes there? ” 


Street. But she had taken only a few 
steps when her attention was arrested by 
a sharp, imperative, staccato bark. The 
bark was like a sentry’s challenge. It 
seemed to say: “Halt! Stop! Who 
goes there? ” 

So she turned about to see who was ac¬ 
costing her in this peremptory manner. 
Standing on the front seat of the car next 
to hers was the brightest-eyed, most alert 
fox terrier she had ever seen. He was 
































































34 


PETER 


looking at her in an appraising manner as 
though he were trying to determine what 
sort of person she was. 

“ Hello, Mr. Dog,” exclaimed Mrs. 
Browning, who was always ready to 
scrape an acquaintance with a friendly 
dog. But as she approached the machine 
and laid her hand on the window sill the 
watchman inside became fairly frantic 
and jumped up and down like a jack- 
in-the-box, barking and growling pro¬ 
digiously. 

His whole manner seemed to say: 
“ What are you doing, lady? Take your 
hand off my mistress’ car and go away. 
Don’t you see I am guarding it while she 
is gone? ” 

His outcry was so persistent that Mrs. 
Browning backed away. 

“You needn’t make such a fuss, Mr. 
Dog,” she said. “ I don’t want to steal 


A GENTLEMAN 


35 


your old car. I have one of my own, 
but I know it is all right. You are a good 
little watchman.” 

The watchman cocked his head on one 
side and listened intently as though he 
were trying to make out what she was 
saying to him. The conciliatory tone 
evidently satisfied him, for he at once 
calmed down and became most friendly. 

So Mrs. Browning finally took leave of 
him and went about her business, almost 
forgetting him in the excitement of shop¬ 
ping. But when she returned to the 
street to look for her car, the first thing 
she noticed was the little watchman still 
peering out of the window, but this time 
he was looking wistfully toward a certain 
store door right opposite the car. Just as 
Mrs. Browning espied him, the store door 
in question opened and a young woman 
came hurriedly out. At sight of her he 


36 PETER 

bounced up and down barking in a frenzy 
of delight. 

“ That’s a bright little dog you have,” 
remarked Mrs. Browning as she passed 
the car. “ He was quite belligerent when 
I addressed him to-day, but finally he 
became more friendly.” 

“ Yes,” returned the woman, “ when 
I leave him to guard the car he is all im¬ 
portance. If any one comes near it, he 
makes a great fuss. If any one should 
try to get inside, he would do his best to 
eat him up. But he is really the most lov¬ 
ing, gentle little dog of his breed that I 
ever knew. He thinks the world of his 
folks, and that is why he is so anxious to 
guard the car. I wish we could keep him 
always, but I am afraid we shall have to 
find a new home for him. You see, my 
little niece is coming to live with me. She 
is only a year old, and it would break 


A GENTLEMAN 


37 


Peter’s heart to see anybody taking the 
love he thinks belongs to him. I never 
saw such a jealous little chap as he is. 
He has to be the whole show. Not that 
he wants anything for himself, but he just 
wants to be it” 

“ We have just lost our little dog,” re¬ 
turned Mrs. Browning, “ but Mr. Brown¬ 
ing is very fussy about the kind of dog 
he has. I am afraid this little fellow 
would not do. He is very particular 
about having a dog with a tail. He says 
a dog talks with his tail, and that it is as 
wicked to cut off a dog’s tail as it would 
be to cut a man’s tongue out.” 

“ I do so wish you could take him,” re¬ 
turned Peter’s mistress. “ He is such a 
dear little chap I know you would learn 
to like him. You couldn’t help it, because 
he would love you so much that you would 
have to love him in return.” 


38 


PETER 


“ Well/’ said Mrs. Browning doubt¬ 
fully, “ I don’t know. I will mention it 
to Mr. Browning, and if you happen to 
be going through Shadyville you might 
stop and let him see the dog.” 

Mrs. Browning very wisely said noth¬ 
ing of her adventure until supper was 
nearly through, and then she remarked 
casually: 

“ I had an adventure to-day. I saw 
something interesting over at Meadow- 
dale.” 

“ Is that so? ” inquired Mr. Browning. 
“ What was your adventure? ” 

“ I saw a dog,” replied the mistress, 
“ and he was the brightest little rogue I 
have seen in many a day. At first he 
wanted to eat me up for putting my hand 
on his mistress’ car, but finally I pacified 
him.” 

“ I don’t see how seeing a dog was 


A GENTLEMAN 


39 


an adventure,” replied Mr. Browning. 
“ There are always a dozen or two walk¬ 
ing up and down Main Street. I should 
have thought you would have seen 
twenty.” 

“ Oh, yes, I did see a lot of them,” re¬ 
plied Mrs. Browning, “ but this was the 
only one I noticed especially. He was as 
bright as a new dollar. I haven’t seen 
such an intelligent little dog in years.” 

“ What breed was he? ” asked the man 
becoming interested in spite of himself. 

“ A fox terrier,” replied Mrs. Brown¬ 
ing, “ and he is a great little dog.” 

“ He is not my kind,” returned the 
man. “ I wouldn’t give a dog house-room 
that hasn’t a good tail to wag when I talk 
to him. You know, a dog always talks to 
me with his tail. The tail is half of the 
dog to me. Your fox terrier wouldn’t do 
at all.” 


40 


PETER 


“You talk as though I had proposed 
him for us,” replied the mistress. “ I told 
you of him because his owner, Mrs. 
Hodges, says they have got to find a home 
for him. It would be a great pity for 
him to go into bad hands.” 

“You didn’t say anything about his 
coming here, did you? ” asked Mr. Brown¬ 
ing suspiciously. “ I am not going to 
have another dog for a long time. It 
hurts too much when you lose one, besides 
there aren’t any more such dogs as 
Dannie.” 

“ Why,” replied Mrs. Browning, “ I 
merely mentioned that we had lost our 
dog. The lady said she would be driving 
through some day and might stop and let 
you see him. That is all.” 

“ Well, it won’t be any use,” replied 
Mr. Browning. “ A dog without a tail is 
like Hamlet with Hamlet left out. If I 


A GENTLEMAN 41 

am going to have a dog, I want a whole 
one. It won’t do any good for this little 
chap to call. I don’t want him.” 

It is very dangerous to prophesy or to 
say what one will, or will not do, when a 
child or a dog is in question, for one may 
find himself gripped by an unseen force, 
and compelled to do the very thing he 
had determined not to do. 



CHAPTER II 

A NEW DOG COMES TO BIRD ACRE 

About a week after the Brownings’ 
conversation over the teacups relative to 
a new dog, an automobile drew up on the 
green before Sunshine Cottage. One of 
its doors opened, and the most eager, alert 
fox terrier that Mrs. Browning thought 
she had ever seen sprang out of the car. 
But he immediately turned about and 
waited expectantly for some one to follow 
him. When a young lady finally alighted, 
Mrs. Browning, who was looking out of 
the long window in the living-room, saw 
at once it was Mrs. Hodges and her dog 
that she had met in Meadowdale the week 
before. 


42 


A NEW DOG COMES 43 

As soon as Mrs. Hodges looked toward 
Sunshine Cottage, the dog, that was 
watching her every movement, saw the 
direction of her gaze and started up the 
path toward the house, bounding along 
like a rubber ball. His legs seemed to be 
just steel springs that shot him into the 
air whenever his paws touched Mother 
Earth. He ran so aerially that he seemed 
more like a sprite of a dog than a real 
flesh-and-blood canine. When he came to 
the four stone steps leading up to the 
piazza, he took them in a single bound, 
and, with another great jump which 
brought his head on a level with the win¬ 
dow in the top of the front door, peeked 
in at the surprised inhabitants of Sun¬ 
shine Cottage. 

For a second, Mrs. Browning saw his 
eager little face framed in the window of 
the front door, and then his four paws 


44 


PETER 



HE PEEKED IN AT THE INHABITANTS 


made a resounding bump on the piazza as 
he fell backward. But such gymnastics 
were nothing to him, and he was up like 
a flash. 

“ Here, here, Peter,” admonished his 
mistress. “ You mustn’t go about peek¬ 
ing into people’s windows in that way. 
They might not like it. They might think 
you were inquisitive.” 

This mild rebuke had the desired effect, 
and it was a very demure little dog that 

















































A NEW DOG COMES 45 

stood by the lady’s side when Mrs. Brown¬ 
ing opened the front door to greet them. 

“ Come right in, Mrs. Hodges,” she 
said. “ I saw you drive up. I see you 
have brought Peter along.” 

“ I had to; he won’t let the car go out 
of the yard unless he is in it. It would 
break his heart if I went off and left him, 
so he had to come. Besides I wanted 
your husband to see him.” 

When his mistress had seated herself in 
an easy chair, her companion and protec¬ 
tor took up his position by her side, look¬ 
ing rather indifferently at Mrs. Browning 
and the master of Sunshine Cottage, who 
had just entered the room. 

“ I wouldn’t think of parting with him 
for the world,” explained Mrs. Hodges, 
“ but, as I told your wife the other day, a 
little girl is coming to live with me, and 
I don’t think Peter would stand for it.” 


46 


PETER 


“ It is too bad he hasn’t a tail,” said 
Mr. Browning, after a pause, “ but that 
is not his fault. He seems to be a nice 
little fellow, and I presume I should like 
him aside from that.” 

“ If you could see more of him, you 
wouldn’t mind that,” returned Peter’s 
mistress. “ He talks all over, with his 
eyes, his ears, his nose, and his whole 
quivering body. I just don’t know what 
I am going to do without him. But I 
don’t see how I can keep him.” 

There was a little sob at the end of the 
sentence, and her sympathetic companion 
at once noticed it. He put his paws up on 
her knees and looked straight into her 
face. Then something bright and shiny 
coursed down her cheek and fell on the 
dog’s upturned head. This was too much 
for the sympathetic heart, and he sprang 
into her lap and licked the moisture from 


A NEW DOG COMES 47 


her cheek. His concern was surprising 
when one remembered that he was just a 
dog. 

“ That is just like Peter,” said his mis¬ 
tress, giving him a big squeeze. “ He 
always wants to comfort us when we feel 
bad. He is just a big bundle of love.” 

“ I wish he would come over and let 
me put my hand on his head,” said Mr. 
Browning. “ I should like to see what he 
feels like.” 

After considerable coaxing, Peter came 
over to the man’s side and allowed him to 
touch his head, but only for a second or 
two, when he was warned by a low growl 
not to take too many liberties that time. 

“ You must not mind his growling,” 
said Mrs. Hodges; “ that is his way of 
talking. He doesn’t mean anything by 
it. He even growls at me sometimes.” 

For fifteen minutes the Brownings and 


48 


PETER 


Peter’s mistress talked over the pos¬ 
sibilities of his coming to Bird Acre, and 
all the time he sat on the floor beside Mrs. 
Hodges, listening intently to every word 
that was said. 

“ He knows we are talking about him,” 
said the mistress, “ but I wonder if he 
appreciates how important this conversa¬ 
tion may be in his life. I have got to go 
away next week, and I wish you would 
let me leave him here on trial. I am sure 
you will not be disappointed in him.” 

Mr. Browning finally consented, rather 
grudgingly, as his memories of Dannie 
were still very vivid and he hated to see 
a usurper in the old dog’s place. But 
at last he agreed that they would take 
Peter for a week. 

“Just on trial, you know,” reminded 
Mr. Browning as Mrs. Hodges prepared 
to go. 


A NEW DOG COMES 49 

She smiled and said, “ Yes,” but her 
smile meant more to Mrs. Browning than 
the monosyllable had. It seemed to say 
to her, “You just leave him to Peter, and 
if Peter doesn’t have his own way with 
him, then I lose my guess.” 

Accordingly on Wednesday evening, 
the night before Thanksgiving Day, the 
automobile again stopped before Sun¬ 
shine Cottage and Peter and his mistress 
came inside. 

“ I don’t just know how we are going 
to work it,” she said. “ I am afraid he 
will make a terrible fuss when I am gone. 
He is so attached to his folks.” 

“ Does he ever go down cellar? ” in¬ 
quired Mr. Browning. 

“ Yes, often, with my husband,” re¬ 
turned the lady. “ He thinks the cellar a 
great place for rats. He is always hunt¬ 
ing them.” 


50 PETER 

“You take him down cellar, Betty,” 
said Mr. Browning. “You were going 
down now to look after the furnace, any¬ 
way, and while he is rat-hunting, Mrs. 
Hodges can make her get-away.” 

So Mrs. Browning led the way to the 
cellar crying “Rats!” to Peter, who at 
once became much excited and followed, 
all eagerness to take a hand in his favorite 
sport. Down the cellar stairs he raced, 
and for fifteen minutes was wholly oc¬ 
cupied with nosing into all the dark cor¬ 
ners and smelling in every hole where a 
rat might be hiding. Finally he seemed 
to remember something, and looked up 
the cellar stairs and then at Mrs. Brown¬ 
ing to see if she were about ready to leave 
the cellar. 

He came bounding up the stairs ahead 
of her, and searched about in every room 
for his mistress, but she was nowhere to be 


A NEW DOG COMES 51 


found. As the minutes went by and his 
search became more frantic, his eyes grew 
wide with fear which soon changed to 
pathetic wistfulness. They almost seemed 
to be clouded with tears. 

Presently he went and looked at the 
door and then came back and stood in 
front of Mr. Browning, growling at him 
most belligerently. 

He seemed to be saying: “You wicked 
man! You locked the door. You let me 
out this minute. I want to go to my 
mistress.” 

“ I’m awfully sorry, old boy,” said Mr. 
Browning. “ I couldn’t help it. She had 
to go,” and he reached out his hands to 
comfort the distraught dog. But this 
only increased Peter’s growls. 

Then he went and stood before Mrs. 
Browning, growling at her also. She 
might be easier to intimidate than the man 


52 


PETER 


had been, but Mrs. Browning could only 
talk comfortingly to him. Neither opened 
the hateful door that had closed behind his 
beloved mistress. 

Finally, when his frenzy had somewhat 
abated, the Brownings took the bag 
stuffed with camel’s hair which had been 
brought in with him for his bed, and put 
it in a warm place behind the kitchen 
stove. But he would not lie down; in¬ 
stead he took the bag in his teeth and 
turned it over and over, as though the 
way it had been placed did not suit him. 

Then Mrs. Browning offered him some 
warm milk and fresh meat, but he turned 
his head away wearily. He was too heart¬ 
sick and frightened to eat. All that eve¬ 
ning the master and mistress of Sun¬ 
shine Cottage tried to pacify him, but to 
no purpose. The light of his world had 
gone out, and for that day and many to 


A NEW DOG COMES 53 

come he was a wretched, heartbroken 
little dog. 

When the master or the mistress tried 
to put their hands on him and pet him, he 
would back away and growl admonish- 
ingly. He seemed to be saying: “ Please 
don’t touch me. You see, I don’t belong 
to you, and I cannot let anybody caress 
me but my own folks. You know how it 
is.” 

Most of his time for the next week 
he spent sitting in a bay window watch¬ 
ing the automobiles which came from 
Meadowdale. If there was one that 
looked like the car of his mistress he be¬ 
came much excited, but when it usually 
rushed through the town on its way to 
some distant point, the look of joy that 
had momentarily lighted up his face 
would give way to its habitual expression 
of wistfulness and longing. 


54 


PETER 


The Brownings did not try to force 
their friendship upon him, for they knew 
it would be useless, but in many little 
ways they tried to make him understand 
that they were his friends. Yet the 
progress was so slow that they were often 
discouraged. 

One night the mistress had to go to a 
lecture, and Mr. Browning to a banquet 
where he was to make a speech, and the 
new dog was left alone in the big house. 
But he was made very comfortable on the 
best sofa in the living-room and did not 
seem to mind having his new friends go. 

Mr. Browning was the first to return 
that night, and when he unlocked the 
front door he heard the new dog jump 
down from the couch and trot into the 
hall, in a very businesslike manner, to see 
who had come. 


“ Hello, Peter,” said the man cheerily. 


A NEW DOG COMES 55 


“ Were you a good dog while I was 
gone? ” 

Peter opened his mouth very wide and 
said, “ Ow-ow-o-o-o,” which means in dog 
language, Yes. 

After depositing his coat and hat in the 
hall, Mr. Browning sat down in his easy- 
chair to rest, and to his surprise Peter 
came shyly toward him. He advanced 
until he could rest his nose upon the man’s 
knees, then without saying as much as by 
your leave he fairly catapulted into Mr. 
Browning’s lap, nor did the demonstra¬ 
tion stop there. For he rubbed his face 
up and down on the man’s coat, first on 
the right side and then on the left, and 
ended by showering the master’s hands 
and face with dog kisses, all the time 
uttering little half-choking sobs of joy. 

“ Why, you poor little beggar,” ex¬ 
claimed the man, stroking the dog’s head 


56 


PETER 


and fondling his ears gently in a way that 
dogs like. “ You poor little beggar, I 
believe you are half-starved for love.” 

Peter certainly was craving some one to 
pet and love him, and he and Mr. Brown¬ 
ing made up for all the time they had lost 
during the past week. 

Presently the mistress entered, and as 
soon as she had taken off her wraps and 
seated herself Peter rushed at her and 
bounded into her lap with such agility 
that he gave her a great start. She, too, 
came in for a shower of dog kisses on her 
hands and face, and Peter was not satis¬ 
fied until she had cuddled and hugged 
him for at least five minutes. 

“ What in the world has come over 
him? ” she inquired of Mr. Browning. 
“ He is not the same dog he was when 
we left.” 

“ As nearly as I can make out,” re- 


A NEW DOG COMES 57 

turned the man, “ it means that we are 
adopted. We aren’t orphans any more. 
The old friends have been tried in the 
balance and found wanting. Peter had 
to have some one to love, so he has 
adopted us. I think he will be a great 
dog from now on.” And the prophecy 
was a true one. 


CHAPTER III 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 

Peter always was a man’s dog, yet this 
did not prevent his expressing a gentle¬ 
ness and consideration for his mistress 
which was often touching and very beau¬ 
tiful to behold. Yet he best loved the 
“ rough-house ” in which he and Mr. 
Browning sometimes participated when 
both were feeling in a hilarious mood. 
But Peter never took liberties with either 
his master or his mistress. 

He was much larger than the average 
fox terrier, for he weighed anywhere from 
twenty-two to twenty-five pounds accord¬ 
ing to the time of year. But there never 
was any superfluous fat on his body, and 
his muscles were always like whipcord. 

58 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 59 

This was because he was so energetic and 
did so much running and jumping and 
was so ready to frolic with the other dogs. 

He was black-and-white with small tan 
dots above each eye. His back from the 
shoulders to the rump was covered with a 
glossy black satin blanket. He was white 
beneath, with specks of black here and 
there. His bosom shirt was always white 
as driven snow when he had not been roll¬ 
ing in the mud with another dog. He had 
four white paws and a white tip on his 
tail. His eyes were black, but they 
changed color when he was excited or 
angry or pleased. Mrs. Browning often 
said that one could have lit a match on 
one of Peter’s eyes when he was angry, 
but she never tried it, so I am not sure as 
to that. 

The mistress also said that she thought 
Peter was inclined to carry a chip on his 


60 PETER 

shoulder, but Mr. Browning said that he 
merely carried himself as any self-respect¬ 
ing, high-spirited dog should. A dog that 
knew his own worth and wanted to be 
sure that all other canines recognized it 
as well. 

Once he had broken his reserve and 
given himself fully to the Brownings, it 
was astonishing how quickly Peter be¬ 
came the very heart and soul of the house¬ 
hold. He was an unending reservoir of 
good spirits, in fact, Mr. Browning called 
him the little joker, for when he chose he 
was a sort of dog comedian, doing all sorts 
of stunts to entertain and cheer up his 
friends. 

The first morning after the adoption of 
the Browning family into his heart Peter 
gave an exhibition of dog hilariousness 
that fairly took his friends’ breath away, 
since he had been so demure for the week 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 61 

before. He had found a piece of corn¬ 
stalk in the garden and with one end of 
it in his mouth he ran about Bird Acre 
in a way that made his new master and 
mistress fairly dizzy. He would shake up 
the cornstalk as though it had been a very 
lively enemy, then he would throw it over 
his head and catch it as it came down, 
next he would spin around and around 
using the cornstalk as a pivot, and all the 
time he kept up a pandemonium of hark¬ 
ing and growling. All good-natured, of 
course, just a bit of dog tomfoolery. 

Peter early evinced a fondness for the 
radio. Whenever the master turned it 
on, he would take up his position on one 
side of the magic box which held such a 
strange medley of sounds, both secular 
and sacred. Peter was always on hand 
Sunday morning when the family gath¬ 
ered around the radio for church services. 


62 


PETER 



JUST A BIT OF DOG TOMFOOLERY 

If, like some other good Christians, he 
occasionally dozed during the sermon he 
was very excusable, for he always roused 
himself when the benediction was pro¬ 
nounced and was ready to listen to the 
concluding hymn. In this particular he 
was also like some other sleepy Chris¬ 
tians. 

As soon as the services were over, he 
would look out of the window to see if 
any strange dogs were trespassing on 

















GETTING ACQUAINTED 63 

Bird Acre, or if any of his own particular 
pals were waiting for him under the pear 
tree to make a Sunday morning call. 

If the casual glance through the win¬ 
dow had convinced him that the tres¬ 
passer was an enemy, he usually took the 
distance across the study and through the 
dining-room in about four jumps, when 
he would leap up and down in front of 
the back door barking frantically until 
somebody let him out. If the trespasser 
were a dog of about his own size, he 
usually fled before they came to grips, 
as this bouncing, barking catapult was 
enough to strike terror into the heart of a 
much larger dog. 

If, on the other hand, the trespasser 
were a large dog, Peter adopted entirely 
different tactics. He would pirouette 
about him, advancing and retreating, 
snapping and feinting, and barking so 


64 


PETER 


vociferously that the stranger finally con¬ 
cluded that there were two small furies 
attacking him instead of one, and what 
normal dog wants to stand off two dogs, 
even though they are somewhat smaller 
than he? So the intruder usually re¬ 
treated after a short running battle. 

Then Peter would return to the house 
all importance and excitement. His 
whole manner seemed to say: “ I hustled 
that brute off the place in short order. I 
guess he won’t be bothering us again.” 

Early in his stay at Sunshine Cottage, 
Peter had noticed that Mr. Browning’s 
eyes were different from those of other 
people. The large clouded glasses which 
he wore were quite an enigma to the dog. 
He would sit upon the floor beside the 
master, looking up at those strange eyes 
for fifteen minutes at a time and always 
with an expression of sympathy and trou- 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 65 

ble on his face. He had also discovered 
that the man did not move about as freely 
from room to room as did the mistress, 
for he would sometimes bump into the 
furniture or collide with a door that had 
been left partly ajar. So Peter began 
walking behind the master as he moved 
about the house, keeping his nose against 
the man’s leg and pushing him in the 
direction he imagined he wanted to go. 

With such a helper, Mr. Browning 
quite frequently was guided into the 
wrong room when he would have found 
the right one himself if left alone, but it 
is the spirit that counts, and the fact that 
the new dog wanted to help him and had 
noticed his weakness so touched the man’s 
heart that he permitted this help, and 
gave Peter the additional name of the 
little pusher. 

During the cold winter months when 


66 


PETER 


Mr. Browning walked on the piazza for 
exercise, Peter was always on hand. Side 
by side they would go up and down the 
piazza, marching like good soldiers and 
the great pals they were. This would 
go on for perhaps ten or fifteen minutes, 
Peter turning at the end of the piazza 
each time just as the master did, until 
Peter’s bright eyes espied another dog 
coming on the place. Then soldiering was 
forgotten, and he would rush off the 
piazza with a great jump and loud barks 
to determine whether the intruder were 
friend or foe. 

Later on in the spring when these 
morning constitutionals were transferred 
to the sidewalk, Peter was again in line, 
marching up and down with his master. 
But now that it was warm and there were 
so many interesting things in the great 
out-of-door world to see, he was not so 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 67 

faithful to the soldiering as he had been 
on the piazza. 

There was another interesting place 
where Peter and the master spent many 
happy hours together. This was in the 
cellar where the master sawed and split 
kindling for the kitchen stove and the fur¬ 
nace, while Peter hunted rats or enter¬ 
tained his master with a sham battle be¬ 
tween a dog and an old shoe. This battle 
was often so strenuous and hilarious that 
the man laughed heartily in spite of him¬ 
self. He finally made this sham battle 
one of Peter’s most astonishing tricks that 
he performed whenever they had callers. 
The master would take an old shoe or 
even a stick and say to Peter, “Now just 
show the people what you would do to this 
shoe if it were a woodchuck.” With a 
strong accent on the chuck. 

Without any further instructions, the 


68 


PETER 


dog would grab the offending footwear 
and shake it and worry it until the as¬ 
sembled company were provoked into 
peals of laughter. This appreciation of 
his trick greatly pleased the vain Peter, 
for he was very much of a play actor and 
enjoyed the plaudits of the crowd as well 
as any man ever did. In fact, Mr. 
Browning sometimes called him the little 
comedian. 

There was one habit of Peter’s which 
greatly annoyed the mistress. In the 
large living-room was an expensive Per¬ 
sian rug several yards square. It was 
dark-green in color, with an interesting 
pattern, and it looked very much like the 
moss carpet in the ancient forest. Peter 
early discovered that if he rolled over on 
his back and then, by pushing with his 
hind legs, wriggled across the carpet it 
was a great back scratcher and a capital 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 69 

way of getting fleas and dandruff out of 
his skin. But it certainly was not good 
for the carpet. 

There were two cat friends at Sunshine 
Cottage with which Peter soon became on 
the best of terms. They were Whitey, a 
large Persian cat, and Twinkles, a good- 
natured yellow feline that was Peter’s 
favorite of the two. Whitey was too dig¬ 
nified to suit Peter, and, if he got too 
familiar with him, he had very objection¬ 
able splinters in his paws. But Twinkles 
was a good-natured chap and would allow 
Peter to haul him around by the scruff 
of the neck, roll him on the floor, and play 
rough-house with him generally. Al¬ 
though this play often worried the mis¬ 
tress, yet Peter never seemed to injure 
either of his two feline friends. 

About a month after Peter’s coming 
to Sunshine Cottage the mistress brought 


70 PETER 

home two small white Persian kittens 
about two months old. Peter’s astonish¬ 
ment on being presented to them was 
quite ludicrous. After viewing them 
from every angle and poking them over 
with his nose, he went to Mr. Browning 
and made desperate efforts to tell him in 
dog language that the mistress had 
brought home a couple of the queerest 
pups he had ever seen. But in time he 
also adopted these small bunches of cat 
fur into his good graces. 

Next to courage, Peter’s dominant 
traits were sympathy and love. Few little 
dogs have ever loved their master and 
mistress more than he did the Brownings, 
once he came to know them. If there was 
trouble in the house, he detected it almost 
immediately and his hilarious manner 
ceased until the clouds lifted. If either 
the master or the mistress were ill, Peter 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 71 

was so troubled and he became so quiet 
that one might almost have imagined 
there was no dog at Sunshine Cottage, yet 
all the time he was observing with his 
keen black eyes everything that went on, 
and when the household finally returned 
to normal he was the happiest little dog in 
Shadyville. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE LITTLE DEFENDER 

Peter had not been at Sunshine Cot¬ 
tage a month before he assumed the role 
of the custodian of the place, especially 
the guarding of the house and the persons 
of his master and mistress. It took him 
another month fully to appreciate the fact 
that he must also guard the premises. He 
had been born and brought up in the city, 
and to his urban mind the house itself was 
his master’s boundary line, but he soon 
learned at Bird Acre that he must guard 
the whole place, not only from stray hens, 
but also from children, who might pilfer 
flowers and fruit. He finally mastered 
the boundary so well that the neighbors 
said he knew where it was as well as the 

72 


THE LITTLE DEFENDER 73 

master did. It was surprising to see him 
rush a stray hen frantically over the 
boundary line and then not go a yard be¬ 
yond. In fact, when he had accomplished 
the expulsion of the trespasser he would 
turn nonchalantly about and walk back 
to the house as though he had done his 
duty and that was the end of the matter. 

Peter was especially active and aggres¬ 
sive in guarding his master and mistress. 
Whenever the front-door bell rang, no 
matter where he was, he would come out 
of his place of hiding like a flash, and 
when the door was finally opened, he was 
standing erect and alert by the side of his 
master or mistress. The first eyes that 
peeked through the crack of the partly 
opened door were the black, piercing eyes 
of the fox terrier. Nor did he relax his 
vigilance and careful scrutiny of the vis¬ 
itor until he had been assured by the 


74 PETER 

master or mistress that it was all right 
and the visitor was a friend. Then he 
would enter the living-room with the rest 
of the family and participate in the socia¬ 
bility, for he was a very social little chap 
and loved to fraternize with company be¬ 
cause they were always sure to exclaim 
about the new dog, and this always 
touched Peter’s vanity. 

He also had a very fixed idea that when 
any one was lying down or lounging in 
the easy-chair, he wished to be protected, 
and should not be molested. Accordingly, 
as soon as either the master or mistress lay 
down on the couch he would plant him¬ 
self on the rug near by, and if any one 
came into the room, Peter would growl 
softly, as much as to say: 

“ Don’t make a noise. Can’t you see 
my master is resting and I am on guard? ” 

He always took this defensive position 


THE LITTLE DEFENDER 75 


in favor of the one reclining, no matter 
whether it were the master or the mistress. 

I do not think that either man or beast 
ever stepped a foot on Bird Acre while 
Peter was custodian of the place without 
his knowing it. His hearing was astonish¬ 
ing, and he seemed to have the sort of 
sixth sense and dog perception that some 
canines have to a remarkable degree. This 
often told him things which were un¬ 
known to his human friends and quite 
mysterious to them. For instance, he 
would be lying in the kitchen behind the 
stove, apparently asleep, when he would 
jump up and bark excitedly and go to the 
front door. The mistress would look out 
of the window and would usually see some 
strange dog trotting by on the sidewalk. 
Peter’s mysterious telepathic perception 
had told him of the nearness of this 
stranger. 


76 


PETER 



HE WAS MOST POLITE TO THE CATS 


He was also most polite to the cats, 
once they became acquainted. He would 
usually step back from his own dish, no 
matter how tempting the morsel, and 
. allow them to eat a portion of his own 
supper. He also considered them as 
members of the household and under his 
own protection. 

If any workman came to Bird Acre to 
work on the place or about the house, 
Peter followed him about to see that he 

















THE LITTLE DEFENDER 77 

did no harm to his master’s personal 
property or the premises. He would lie 
for an hour at a time watching the man 
who happened to be hoeing in the garden, 
his dark appraising eyes noting every 
movement of the stranger. 

One day when Peter was visiting a 
neighbor’s dog, a boy came to the house 
to borrow a wheelbarrow. He was just 
leaving the yard with it when Peter espied 
him from across the street. He came 
bounding across the road with great alac¬ 
rity and importance and planted himself 
in front of the wheelbarrow, growling so 
prodigiously that the boy dropped the 
handles of the barrow and went into the 
house for reinforcements. It was not 
until the mistress came out and explained 
to Peter that she had loaned the wheel¬ 
barrow that he would permit it to be 
taken from the place. 


78 


PETER 


Each night when Peter was ready to 
retire he made up his bed in a ridiculous 
manner. He slept upon a chest under the 
kitchen window, and he would usually 
collect on his bed all the things with which 
he had been playing during the day. It 
might be an old glove, some sticks, a 
well-polished bone, or perhaps an old shoe. 
Just why he did it was not plain, but he 
seemed to want his treasures where he 
could guard them during the night. 

Peter was the most unselfish little dog 
that ever came to Sunshine Cottage. Not 
only would he share his supper with the 
cats, but he often rushed into the back 
yard with a dog biscuit in his mouth just 
because a forlorn stray had come into the 
yard and looked tired and hungry. On 
one occasion Mr. Browning complained 
that the new bag of biscuit was going in 
an astonishing manner, at least three 


THE LITTLE DEFENDER 79 

pounds a day were disappearing some¬ 
where. So he told Mrs. Browning to 
watch and see where they went. She, too, 
was mystified until about the middle of 
the afternoon when she saw Peter with his 
mouth fairly bulging with biscuit push 
open the back door and go out into the 
yard to feed some of his unfortunate dog 
neighbors. 

“We shall have to put a stop to this,” 
said Mr. Browning. “ Peter will be feed¬ 
ing all the dogs in town. I like dogs 
myself, but we can’t run a dog hotel.” 

So the bag of dog biscuit was hidden 
away where Peter could not get at it. 

Just about this time Mrs. Browning 
discovered that Peter was not eating his 
own ration of dog biscuit, but each eve¬ 
ning he would carry it out into the yard 
and disappear behind the hedge. For 
several days the Brownings did not dis- 


80 


PETER 


cover what he did with the biscuits, 
although they assumed he ate them. But 
as Peter himself seemed ravenously 
hungry, Mrs. Browning followed him one 
evening and found, to her astonishment, a 
very forlorn half-starved dog behind the 
hedge. The stranger was suffering from 
a badly bruised leg, having been hit by an 
automobile. 

Peter was all excitement on having 
his new friend discovered, and danced 
around him, barking gleefully and en¬ 
couraging his mistress in every way to 
help the sufferer. Peter’s sympathy and 
love for the unfortunate canine was so 
genuine, so persistent, that the lame dog 
was finally brought into the woodshed, 
where he was nursed back to health and 
sent on his way rejoicing. 

It was not until Peter had been at Sun¬ 
shine Cottage perhaps two months that 


THE LITTLE DEFENDER 81 

he made his greatest demonstration as a 
defender, and showed his willingness to 
stand between those he loved and danger, 
no matter what the cost. 

One evening Mrs. Flanagan, a neighbor 
who lived five or six houses down the 
street, came hurrying into the yard gestic¬ 
ulating and showing signs of excitement. 
The Brownings were rather mystified as 
to her call until they discovered Peter 
limping along behind her on three legs 
and looking a bit disheveled, and as 
though he had had a hard time of it. 

“ The gritty little dog that he is,” 
began Mrs. Flanagan in her rich brogue. 
“ If it hadn’t been for him, me poor, leetle 
Tootsie would have been in the hands of 
the undertaker this minute, he would. 
You know me Tootsie, Mrs. Browning, 
the little brown Boston bull that I set 
sech a store by. Him that keeps me 


82 PETER 

company when Mike has gone to the 
factory.” 

“What happened, Mrs. Flanagan?” 
inquired Mrs. Browning, “ and what 
makes Peter so lame? ” 

“ Well, it was this way. I was a-doing 
me ironing in the kitchen when I saw a 
great lubber of a police dog, one of those 
haythenish wolves you see so many of 
nowadays, come trotting into the yard. 
Tootsie was under the grape arbor and I 
ain’t saying that he wa’n’t a bit sassy, but 
no more than a high-spirited dog has a 
right to be on his own primises. But 
this miserable wolf swooped down upon 
him right under me own nose and grabbed 
him by the scruff of the neck and was 
shaking the life out of him before I knew 
what had happened. I was that paralyzed 
with fear not a word could I get out of me 
mouth for a minute. But seeing that 


THE LITTLE DEFENDER 83 



Tootsie was being done for, I let out a 
yell you could have heard for a mile. I’m 
thinking the good Lord must have heard 
me and sent Peter, for immadiately he 
came galloping into the yard. When he 
saw his friend, Tootsie, being murdered, 
he just rushed at the ugly baste like a 
whirlwind and banged into the police dog 
so hard he dropped poor Tootsie and he 
straked into the woodshed like the ould 
boy was after him. 
















84 


PETER 


“ But this left poor Peter with this ugly 
baste on his hands, and him only about a 
third as big as the haythenish wolf, but 
he didn’t run. He jest laped around like 
a jack-rabbit, first one side of the ugly 
baste and then the other, and he kept up 
such a barking that I thought he was 
honest goin’ to bluff the big brute, but 
finally he got a savage bite on his rump, 
and then ’twas that Norah Flanagan 
came to the rescue. I grabbed me clothes- 
stick and rushed out into the yard and 
cracked the police dog over the back and 
when he faced me I brung it down with 
all me might on the top of his head. This 
was enough for Mr. Wolf and he skedad¬ 
dled, and Peter, the little rascal, would 
have gone after him if I hadn’t called him 
back and told him it was all right, we had 
punished him enough. So you see, Mrs. 
Browning, it is a big debt we owe you, 


THE LITTLE DEFENDER 85 

Tootsie and me. Here’s a half a dollar 
and I want you to take it and buy Peter 
a big bone every night for a week. He 
desarves it and a whole lot more, for if it 
hadn’t been for him there would be no 
Tootsie Flanagan this very minute, I’m 
thinking.” 

About a month after the incident in 

which Peter rescued Tootsie Flanagan he 

gave another demonstration of his utter 

fearlessness in the face of danger and his 
« 

willingness to sacrifice himself to any ex¬ 
tent for those he loved. It mattered not 
whether they were animals or folks. 

One afternoon Mrs. Browning was in 
the back chamber doing some work when, 
glancing out of the window, she saw two 
police dogs gallop into the yard, attracted 
by Whitey, who was chasing a dry leaf. 
The cat was so engrossed in this play that 
he did not notice the danger until it was 


86 


PETER 


almost upon him. Then he wheeled and 
dashed for the rose trellis close to the 
house, and scratched his way up a post for 
six or eight feet, but here his progress 
was at once arrested, for he came in con¬ 
tact with a solid bank of roses and could 
go no higher. He was not really out of 
reach of the police dogs, that sprang at 
him continually. There he hung in a 
dilemma, with an impenetrable bank of 
roses above and the two yawning mouths 
of the police dogs beneath. 

Mrs. Browning stuck her head out of 
the window and uttered a despairing cry, 
expecting every minute to see her ador¬ 
able Whitey fall into the jaws of the dogs. 

Just where Peter came from or what 
he had been doing was never known. He 
had probably been asleep in the orchard, 
but he came running like a small aveng¬ 
ing Nemesis, yelping with rage at every 


THE LITTLE DEFENDER 87 



HE SENT HIM SPRAWLING 
















88 


PETER 



jump. When he saw that he had two 
adversaries instead of one and that each 
was about three times his own size, he did 
not hesitate. That made no difference to 
him. He would have charged just the 
same if there had been a whole pack of 
dogs instead of two. 

The invaders were so intent on their 
quarry that they did not notice Peter 
until he was upon them, or perhaps they 
did discover him and would not deign to 
look his way. The first they knew of his 
coming was when he caught the hind leg 
of one of the dogs as he sprang into the 
air, and with a sudden twitch sent him 
sprawling on his side. He then sprang at 
the second enemy, and this one was so 
disconcerted by the sudden attack and the 
fury of the onslaught that it distracted 
his attention for a moment from the 
beleaguered cat. So Whitey slid down 


THE LITTLE DEFENDER 89 


the post to which he had been hanging, 
and disappeared in safety under the 
garage door. 

Enraged by the fact that they had been 
thwarted in the pursuit of their quarry, 
the two marauders turned upon poor little 
Peter, who, had he tempered his valor with 
discretion, would have taken refuge in 
some of the shrubbery in the back yard. 
But not so this intrepid David, although 
he had two Goliaths to fight and not one. 

Instead of retreating, he sprang at his 
enemies alternately, first at one and then 
at the other, disconcerting and amazing 
them with the agility and rapidity of his 
movements. When they opened their 
great mouths for the fox terrier, they got 
air instead. Several times it seemed that 
they slashed him cruelly on his little body, 
but they only drew a few drops of blood. 
But even Peter with all his valor and his 


90 


PETER 


cunning and courage could not for long 
keep up so unequal a battle. So grad¬ 
ually his attackers pressed him backward 
against the rose trellis from which he had 
so recently rescued his friend. There was 
but one thing to do. It took fearful 
courage, but Peter did it. He whirled so 
quickly that his adversaries could not 
anticipate his movement and like a flash 
dove straight through the solid bank of 
rosebushes and wire netting, which was 
rather rotten, cutting a clean hole about a 
foot square as he went. He fell in a sorry 
little heap on the other side, and when his 
oppressors rushed at the spot they recoiled 
with yelps of pain. 

At this moment in the melee Mrs. 
Browning appeared on the scene bran¬ 
dishing a poker, and the invaders slowly 
retreated, having been doubly foiled in 
their attack on the Browning household. 


THE LITTLE DEFENDER 91 

Mr. Browning then came to the rescue, 
and after cutting a much larger hole in 
the rose entanglement, he reached in and 
carefully lifted out little Peter and carried 
him into the kitchen where he received 
first aid at the hands of his beloved mis¬ 
tress. His nose and face were bristling 
with thorns from the rosebush, one of his 
soft little ears had been split by the fangs 
of one of the attackers, there was a savage 
gash on his rump, and he was battered up 
quite generally. He stood like a little 
soldier with gritted teeth while his mistress 
bathed his wounds with antiseptic and 
pulled the thorns from his face. Not a 
whimper did he utter, although this treat¬ 
ment must have hurt him extremely. In¬ 
stead, he stood defiantly winking his eyes 
to keep back the tears, and occasionally 
licking his mistress’ hands. 

When the dressing of his wounds had 


92 


PETER 


been completed, Peter crawled into his 
favorite chair and tried to rest and recover 
his spirit from the terrible mauling he had 
received. 

“You are a brave little chap, Peter 
boy,” said Mr. Browning, stroking his 
back gently. “ If I had as much courage 
to the pound as you have, I could lick the 
world.” 


CHAPTER V 


THE EXTRA PASSENGER 

If there was one thing more than all 
else in his small dog world which took the 
pep out of Peter and seemed for the time 
being almost to break his courageous dog 
heart it was to have the car roll out of 
the yard at Bird Acre and he not in it. 
The automobile was to his mind a sort of 
dog paradise, and to be in it was all that 
he required for heavenly bliss. When 
the garage door had been left open by 
mistake he would often go and sit on the 
running-board or even stand on his hind 
legs and peek in at the window, looking 
with covetous eyes at just the spot where 
he would sit the next time he went to ride. 
Often the mistress had to wash off dog 


93 


94 


PETER 


paw-prints on the window sill, or the tell¬ 
tale marks of an inquisitive nose on the 
window glass. 

Sometimes when the mistress was going 
to Meadowdale to shop she would remark 
to Mr. Browning: 

“ I don’t think I can let O. D. go with 
me to-day. I am in a great hurry and 
cannot look after him.” 

O. D. was a contraction for “ our dog ” 
which Mr. Browning had invented as a 
sort of code to be used between himself 
and the mistress when they wished to 
speak about Peter in his presence and not 
have him understand. If they used his 
name when he was about, he at once be¬ 
came suspicious and it was amazing how 
much of their conversation he could under¬ 
stand. So when they wanted to talk over 
his head they referred to him as O. D. 

When he was left behind, he would 


THE EXTRA PASSENGER 95 


dance about on the window ledge of the 
bay window, whimpering pathetically 
until the car finally disappeared in the dis¬ 
tance, then he would jump down from his 
perch and trot dejectedly into the kitchen 
where he would leap upon the chest where 
he always slept at night and throw himself 
down in utter grief and abandon. If Mr. 
Browning remained at home with him, he 
would go out and sit down on the chest 
beside Peter and try to comfort him. 

“ Here, Peter boy, it isn’t so bad as all 
that. Don’t you see that master is here? 
He didn’t go in the old bus. Come, now, 
we will have a fine afternoon of it, just 
you and I together.” 

He would stroke Peter’s head and the 
dog would lick his hand affectionately, 
but could rarely be roused from his utter 
dejection. 

“ It’s no use, master,” his whole manner 


96 


PETER 


seemed to say, “ don’t you see the mistress 
has gone off and left her dog behind? My 
whole day is spoiled.” 

Then Mr. Browning would get a tempt¬ 
ing bit of cake and try to entice him to 
eat it, but he would turn away his head 
dejectedly saying as plainly as a small 
dog could: 

“ Don’t you see, master, I am too heart¬ 
broken even to eat cake? ” 

Then the master would try some strata¬ 
gem to draw Peter out of his dumps. 
Perhaps he would lie down on the couch 
and invite him to come and be on guard. 
Peter would take up his position by the 
couch, merely as a matter of form and 
without his usual gusto or seeming im¬ 
portance. He would lie very quietly for 
five or ten minutes, but would finally get 
up and say as plainly as he could in dog 
language: 


THE EXTRA PASSENGER 97 


“ There isn’t any use in my lying here, 
master. Don’t you see there is nobody in 
the house to protect you from? I am 
going back to my chest and my grief. 
The day is spoiled, and nothing can make 
it right.” 

On those joyous occasions when Peter 
did go with the car he was the most de¬ 
lighted little dog passenger that ever 
climbed into an automobile. If he had not 
been out in the car for some time and was 
on his very best behavior, he would sit up 
beside the mistress in the front seat as 
prompt as a drum major, eager and alert, 
watching her every movement and look¬ 
ing up into her face with adoring eyes. 
When she honked the horn, he would give 
a short imperative bark as much as to say, 
“ Out of the way, you folks, don’t you see 
our car is coming! ” 

On the other hand, if Peter was feeling 


98 


PETER 


hilarious and quite sure of his place in the 
automobile, he would take possession of 
about the whole car. He would stand 
with his hind legs on the back seat and 
his fore paws resting on the back of the 
front seat, from which vantage point he 
could look in all four directions at once. 
I am positive that no wide-awake boy ever 
saw more from the windows of a flying 
car than Peter did on such occasions. His 
eager little face was turning constantly 
this way and that, and his black intense 
eyes were boring holes in the landscape in 
every direction. 

There was scarcely a dog on either side 
of the road during the entire trip that he 
did not see. This did not matter so long 
as they were small dogs, or dogs that he 
approved of, but if he got his eyes on a 
police dog close to the car, that was quite 
another matter. He would then let out 


THE EXTRA PASSENGER 99 

such a yelp of rage that his mistress would 
almost lose her grip on the steering-wheel. 
It was several minutes before Mr. Brown¬ 
ing, coaxing and pleading, and trying in 
every way to calm him down, could restore 
quiet in the car. 

The most surprising adventure that 
Peter ever gave his friends while auto- 
mobiling occurred one summer day when 
they were bowling along a pleasant 
country road. Peter was never so much 
interested when they went on these excur¬ 
sions into the country, for there were 
fewer dogs to watch for, and fewer chil¬ 
dren by the wayside. So when the car 
went out into the country, he usually got 
down from his perch on both seats and sat 
on the front seat with his mistress, or he 
would even lie down by her side and, if 
the trip were a long one, take a nap. 

On this occasion, a hot summer after- 


100 


PETER 


noon, Mrs. Browning had insisted that 
the window on Peter’s side of the car be 
left wide open, and, even so, the air was 
stifling. Peter had been sitting very 
demurely by his mistress’ side, not taking 
very much notice of the landscape, when 
of a sudden he espied something by the 
roadside which was very much to his liking 
although at the time the other occupants 
of the car were entirely in the dark as to 
his sudden frenzied movement, for with 
an excited bark and without the slightest 
warning he sprang right through the open 
window and went rolling over and over in 
the ditch beside the road, but nothing 
daunted he was up like a flash and off 
through the underbrush with excited bark¬ 
ing, chasing a gray rabbit that his bright 
eyes had discovered in the thicket close to 
the road. 

Mrs. Browning brought the car to a 


THE EXTRA PASSENGER 101 



RIGHT THROUGH THE OPEN WINDOW 


standstill in the shortest possible time, but 
by the time she had alighted, Peter was 
fifty yards away chasing the rabbit in wild 
abandon, yelping at every jump. 

“ What in the world is the matter with 
him? ” cried the distracted mistress. 
“ He’s racing around in the thicket, chas¬ 
ing something, I can’t make out what it 
is. You don’t think he’s gone mad, do 
you? ” 



















102 PETER 

The master climbed out of the car. 
“No, I guess not,” said the man. “ I 
guess he is chasing something. It must be 
a rabbit.” 1 

For fifteen minutes the man and woman 
sat on the running-board waiting for the 
conclusion of the chase. Mr. Browning 
whistled until his whistle completely dried 
up and Mrs. Browning called imploringly 
to Peter whenever the chase came that 
way, but all to no purpose. Finally the 
excited barking turned to imploring yelp¬ 
ing and whining that seemed to come from 
one place instead of all over the lot. 

“ He has holed the rabbit,” explained 
Mr. Browning. “ I guess he will come 
back now, or perhaps we shall have to go 
after him.” 

For five minutes they waited for Peter’s 
return, but as he did not put in an appear¬ 
ance Mrs. Browning went after him. 


THE EXTRA PASSENGER 103 

Peter was usually all eagerness to fol¬ 
low his mistress anywhere, but it was 
fifteen minutes before she could coax him 
away from the rabbit hole and back into 
the car. 

“ The little wretch,” panted Mrs. 
Browning as she climbed back into the 
car. “ I’ll know better than to leave your 
window open again. It is a wonder you 
didn’t break your neck, but I’m so glad 
to have you back I’ll forgive you, Peter,” 
and she cuddled him in her arms while he 
showered her face with very dirty dog 
kisses. 

Peter’s passion for automobiles got him 
into many ridiculous positions, and two 
that were most serious. If an automobile 
parked in the yard at Bird Acre and it 
was an open car or one door left open, 
Peter was quite sure to take possession of 
it. Thus the coal man when he had 


104 PETER 

unloaded the black diamonds would 
frequently find a very important erect fox 
terrier sitting behind the steering-wheel, 
all ready to start up the car if permission 
were given him. 

Mrs. Browning often remarked that 
any one could steal Peter as easily as not, 
provided he offered him a ride in an auto¬ 
mobile. 

About a year after his coming to Bird 
Acre, this passion for automobile rides got 
Peter into an adventure which very nearly 
proved serious. A clothing man had been 
calling at the house measuring Mr. 
Browning for a new suit, and had stopped 
to talk much longer than he usually did, 
so when he finally hurried out and jumped 
into his car, he had considerable time to 
make up, and this was why he did not 
notice Peter, curled up, fast asleep, on 
the floor between the seats. 


THE EXTRA PASSENGER 105 

As soon as the car started, however, 
Peter aroused from his nap and was very 
much awake, but since the clothing man 
had broken his looking-glass the week 
before and had not replaced it he did not 
notice the passenger on the back seat until 
twenty miles had been covered, while all 
the time Peter had been peering out at the 
car window, looking for boys, dogs, and 
other interesting sights by the way. He 
had not discovered a police dog in all that 
time, but just as the car emerged from 
the city of Springtown Peter espied a 
large member of the hated species trotting 
arrogantly along the sidewalk close to the 
car. 

The clothing man was amazed by the 
diabolical shriek of rage that came from 
the back seat of his car. He stopped it 
immediately, and was much astonished to 
see Peter, whose acquaintance he had 


106 PETER 

made at the Brownings’, glaring out of 
the car window. 

“ Well,” ejaculated the astonished 
traveling man, “ here’s a pretty mess of 
fish. We’re twenty miles from Shady- 
ville, and Heaven only knows what I am 
going to do with you.” 

He alighted from the car and tried to 
coax Peter out also, but Peter was 
pleased with his position on the back seat, 
and for a long time his new chauffeur 
could not dislodge him, but finally he got 
him by the collar and pulled him forth 
unceremoniously. Not being a very wise 
person as far as dogs were concerned, he 
gave Peter a shove and a kick in the 
direction of home and jumped into his car 
and speeded away toward New York, 
leaving Peter very much disgruntled in 
the middle of the road. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE FUGITIVE’S RETURN 

Peter’s first concern on being left 
alone in the middle of the road was to look 
for the police dog that had betrayed him 
into divulging his presence in the car, but 
that disagreeable canine had disappeared, 
which was just as well for Peter. 

A boy in his teens under such circum¬ 
stances might have been greatly non¬ 
plussed as to the direction of home or how 
to get there, but not so Peter. For all 
the time during the twenty mile drive he 
had been noting objects by the roadside, 
and this helped in the return. His sense 
of orientation, which dogs and horses 
possess to a marked degree in common 
with the homing pigeons and seals, also 


107 


108 


PETER 


stood him in good stead, for he pointed his 
nose straight back into the city of Spring- 
town, and trotted along just as though 
hiking back home twenty miles were a 
daily pastime with him. 

The main street of Springtown was 
rather confusing to Peter, and once or 
twice he missed his way, but he always 
found it again. He jogged along in that 
indefatigable dog trot which eats up the 
English miles in a surprising manner. 

In half an hour’s time he had left 
Springtown behind and was on his way to 
Millville. He was careful to keep well 
off the macadam road, which was a veri¬ 
table death trap to any dog that did not 
have his wits about him and look in 
every direction. In another hour he had 
covered the distance between Springtown 
and Millville. He had seen many divert¬ 
ing scenes by the wayside, but, to tell the 


THE FUGITIVE’S RETURN 109 

truth, he was a bit worried over his es¬ 
capade and wondered if the master and 
mistress would scold him or even punish 
him when he finally returned to Bird 
Acre. 

Meanwhile the master and mistress 
were making frantic efforts to locate 
Peter, as he had never been gone from 
home so long before. He had occasionally 
gone away for an hour or two to visit 
some of his dog friends in the village, but 
that was the extent of his wanderings. 
And for this reason his absence was still 
more alarming. 

Mr. Browning had walked up and 
down the entire length of Shadyville’s old 
historic street, whistling and calling for 
Peter and asking every one whom he met 
if they had seen the dog, but all had re¬ 
turned a negative answer. In the mean- 


110 


PETER 


time Mrs. Browning had telephoned to 
everybody in the village who possessed a 
dog, asking if Peter were calling there, 
but no one had seen him. When Mr. 
Browning finally returned home, he was 
quite depressed. 

“ I don’t believe he is anywhere on the 
street,” he said; “he would surely have 
heard me if he had been.” 

“ I’ve telephoned to every one I could 
think of,” replied his wife, “ yet no one 
has seen him, but I guess he is all right. 
He will turn up soon.” 

While she had been speaking the tele¬ 
phone rang, and Mr. Browning hurried 
to answer it, thinking they might learn 
something of Peter’s whereabouts. 

“ Hello,” said the voice at the other end 
of the wire, “ this is the clothing man. I 
am very sorry, but after I had gone a mile 
or two beyond Springtown I discovered 


THE FUGITIVE’S RETURN 111 

your little dog on the back seat of the car. 
He had been so quiet I had not noticed 
him. I am in a great hurry and have got 
to reach New York to-night, so the only 
thing I could do was to give him a good 
shove in the direction of home.” 

“ Why in the world didn’t you leave 
him at some house where they could have 
telephoned us and we would have gone 
after him? ” inquired Mr. Browning in¬ 
dignantly. 

“ I should have,” replied the traveling 
man, apologetically. “ It was a rash 
thing to leave him in the middle of the 
road, but I was in such a hurry and at my 
wit’s end.” 

“Fool!” exclaimed Mr. Browning as 
he hung up the receiver with a bang. 
“ Peter climbed into the clothing man’s 
car and he did not discover him until he 
was below Springtown,” explained Mr. 


112 


PETER 


Browning, “ and then he dumped him out 
in the road and left him to find his way 
home. It will be a wonder if he ever 
makes it.” 

The mistress herself was much con¬ 
cerned about Peter, but she tried to reas¬ 
sure Mr. Browning, who worshipped the 

■ 

dog. 

“ Oh, I guess he will be all right,” she 
said. “ If he doesn’t come back to-night, 
we will advertise for him in to-morrow’s 
paper. Somebody will be sure to take him 
in, he is such an attractive little chap. 
Everybody likes him, especially boys. I 
am sure that Peter will get along all right. 
Don’t worry.” 

After Peter had finally found his way 
through Millville and pointed his nose 
toward Meadowdale the number of cars 
on the road doubled and trebled. It was 
the rush hour between five and six o’clock. 


THE FUGITIVE’S RETURN 113 


All the workmen were on their way home 
and in a great hurry. Cars were honking 
at Peter on every side, and there seemed 
no place on the great highway for a lost, 
homesick little dog. 

For a time he tried running in the 
middle of the road between the two 
streams of cars, but this caused a great 
honking and much commotion at his ex¬ 
pense, so he finally deserted the highway 
altogether and trotted along in the fields 
parallel to it, which was much the wisest 
thing to do. 

He was detained several minutes by a 
very impudent tomcat that came out and 
offered to scratch his nose if he would give 
him a chance. Of course Peter accepted 
the invitation, and a lively fracas ensued, 
at the height of which a man appeared 
with a stone, and Peter narrowly escaped 
being hit by the flying missile. 


114 


PETER 



PETER ACCEPTED THE INVITATION 


Then a police dog detained him for a 
few minutes, but as the Alsatian shepherd 
was very polite and rather disdainful of 
the small dog, the fracas was of short 
duration and Peter again resumed his 
journey homeward. By eight o’clock he 
entered the outskirts of Meadowdale, and 
then for the first time knew where he was. 
He had known in a general way the direc¬ 
tion of home, but the sight of well-remem¬ 
bered scenes greatly encouraged him. 







THE FUGITIVE’S RETURN 115 

Some kind Providence that looks out 
for dumb creatures had prompted Peter 
to take a back road through Meadowdale, 
else he might never have reached Shady- 
ville. He had partly skirted the city and 
was trotting along on a side street when 
he ran plump into one of his Meadowdale 
dog friends, Scotty Anderson, a handsome 
Scotch collie. Much to Peter’s surprise 
he saw that Scotty was wearing a muzzle. 

I do not know just how dogs converse, 
but they most certainly have a language 
of their own which is very efficient. It 
may be a sign language, or perhaps it is 
partly telepathic, but communicate they 
do. 

Peter and Scotty stood for nearly a 
minute with their noses touching, and dur¬ 
ing that time Scotty managed to convey 
to Peter the idea that Meadowdale at 
that time was a very dangerous place for 


116 PETER 

a dog without a muzzle, and that he had 
better reach Shadyville as soon as pos¬ 
sible. There was a quarantine on the dogs 
in the city, and every dog that did not 
wear a muzzle was shot at sight. Even 
so, they had barely concluded the excited 
confab, when without the slightest warn¬ 
ing a policeman appeared around the 
corner. At the sight of Peter, as quick 
as a flash he drew his revolver and fired 
in his direction. Peter felt a stinging 
blow upon his head and for a second or 
two everything went dark. He felt weak 
and sick and as though he would collapse, 
but with great generosity his friend, 
Scotty, sprang between him and the officer 
who was about to fire again, and in the 
three or four seconds while the policeman 
maneuvered for another position from 
which to fire, Peter made his escape run¬ 
ning at his best pace. 


THE FUGITIVE’S RETURN 117 



A POLICEMAN APPEARED 




























118 


PETER 


His flight was uncertain and rather 
wavering, and he was not just sure of the 
direction in which he was going, but the 
same kind Providence that had caused 
him to meet with Scotty and get his timely 
warning held Peter to his course. So 
after another half-hour, by devious ways 
which even took him into the great 
meadows close to the river, he came up to 
the end of the bridge leading to Shady- 
ville. After reconnoitering the approach 
to the bridge carefully for several minutes, 
Peter decided that the coast was clear and 
made a dash for that much-coveted high¬ 
way that led to home. 

Five minutes later he trotted into the 
broad historic street of old Shadyville and 
was in sight of the brown house, which 
looked better to Peter than it ever had 
before, and he had always loved his home. 

Mr. Browning was sitting before the 


THE FUGITIVE’S RETURN 119 


radio trying to find something interest¬ 
ing, something that would divert his mind 
from his terrible premonitions concerning 
Peter, when he heard a quick, sharp bark 
at the door. Without even stopping to 
turn off the radio he hurried through the 
hall, and a minute later was kneeling on 
the floor with Peter in his arms. 

The master was so overcome at the safe 
return of his pal that he did not scold 
Peter but sat there on the floor hugging 
and petting him until Mrs. Browning 
joined the happy party. 

“ My, but this is a relief,” said the 
master. “ Do you think he is all right, 
Betty? Take a look at him.” 

Mrs. Browning examined Peter from 
the tip of his inquisitive nose to the end 
of his rapidly vibrating tail, but did not 
find anything wrong with him. 

Yet when Mr. Browning let him go 


120 


PETER 


and he started toward the kitchen for his 
supper she noticed that he seemed rather 
wobbly on his feet, and occasionally 
bumped into the furniture as though he 
did not see well. 

“ He is not just right, Lawrence,” she 
explained to Mr. Browning when Peter 
had been given the best supper he had 
ever eaten in his life. “ He seems to 
walk unsteadily, and occasionally bumps 
into the furniture. I don’t understand 
it.” 

After Peter had finished his supper Mr. 
Browning took the dog in his lap and with 
his sensitive all-seeing fingers felt him 
over very carefully from head to tail. 

“ Betty, come here,” he said at last to 
Mrs. Browning, “ I think I have found 
what the trouble is. You just look at 
Peter’s right temple just above the eye 
and see if you can discover anything.” 


THE FUGITIVE’S RETURN 121 


Mrs. Browning brought a flashlight 
and examined Peter’s head carefully, but 
could see nothing amiss. 

“ Just pass your fingers lightly over his 
temple from the eyebrow in the direction 
of the ear and see if you feel anything.” 

Mrs. Browning did as directed but 
could discern nothing. 

“ There is a slight groove in his temple 
bone,” said Mr. Browning finally. “ It 
looks to me very much as though he had 
been shot at, and the bullet had just 
barely missed braining him. 

“ Peter, if that bullet had gone an inch 
lower your master would have been a 
heartbroken man this night. I do wish 
that Peter weren’t so venturesome. I 
wish he would show the white feather once 
in a while and stick his tail between his 
legs and run. This standing up to every 
danger is sometimes bad policy. I am 


122 


PETER 


afraid that Peter has much more valor 
than discretion.” 

“ You forget that he has no tail to stick 
between his legs,” laughed Mrs. Brown¬ 
ing. “ I guess Peter will take care of 
himself. He is a pretty wise little dog, 
aren’t you, Peter? ” And the fox terrier 
made answer with a glad bark. 

All the same, Mr. Browning was not 
convinced, and he still wished that Peter 
would temper his valor with discretion. 

“ Peter has got the grit of half a dozen 
common dogs,” said Mr. Browning, “ but 
just the same I’d feel safer about him if 
he were not so willing to sacrifice himself 
for everybody on the slightest occasion. 
I’m thinking he would live longer if he 
would look out for Peter once in a while. 
You know, he is my little pal, Betty, and 
I couldn’t get along without him.” 


CHAPTER VII 


PETER, THE PAL 

Peter had not been at Sunshine Cot¬ 
tage many weeks before he made up his 
mind that for some reason the master 
needed a small dog just like himself to 
look out for him. So he took upon him¬ 
self this guardianship, and in time became 
a very great help to Mr. Browning. 

The thing about the master that at¬ 
tracted his attention more than anything 
else was the large clouded glasses which 
he wore. Peter would sit upon the floor 
beside the man, looking at these glasses 
for fifteen minutes at a time with a puz¬ 
zled, troubled look on his face. Why did 
the master wear these strange things? 
Sometimes he would even climb up into 


123 


124 


PETER 


the man’s lap and try to peek under the 
glasses to see if he could discover the 
mystery. 

He also noticed that when the man 
moved about the house he went more 
cautiously than the mistress did, and if a 
door had been left ajar or a piece of fur¬ 
niture were out of its accustomed place, 
he was quite apt to bump into it. When 
such mishaps occurred, Peter was at the 
master’s side instantly, trying to help him. 
If he were not otherwise employed, the 
dog frequently tagged at the man’s heels 
when he went from room to room in the 
house, seeking to guide him. Often Peter 
himself mistook the man’s destination, and 
this added to the confusion, but since he 
was trying to help, the master forgave 
him. 

Peter had come to Bird Acre late in the 
autumn, and during the winter Mr. 


PETER, THE PAL 125 

Browning spent much of the time in the 
house, so it was not until the spring birds 
came back and the family spent more time 
out of doors that Peter and the master 
had their finest times together. 

The thing about the master that Peter 
greatly enjoyed was the fact that he 
would allow him to take liberties which he 
did not dare take with the mistress. For 
instance, when the master walked up and 
down on the lawn Peter would often 
worry his shoes, barking and snapping at 
them fiercely, all just in play. His 
hilariousness and joyousness greatly 
pleased and diverted the man, so he en¬ 
couraged this horse play. On the other 
hand, Mrs. Browning did not like to have 
her shoes soiled and discolored in this 
manner. So if Peter wanted a real 
hilarious time at play, he sought out the 


master. 


126 


PETER 


Many a wonderful hour the two spent 
lying on a buffalo robe under the great 
elm in the south yard. The man would 
listen to the song birds and the low mur¬ 
mur of the May wind in the tree tops, and 
Peter would amuse himself in a dozen 
different ways. Later on in the summer 
they journeyed farther afield, and often 
spent a pleasant afternoon down in the 
meadow where a little brook sang in the 
willows and bobolinks, meadow larks, and 
redwings made pleasant music. Here the 
man would lie in the tall lush grass, drink¬ 
ing in the sweet elixir of nature and 
luxuriating in the scenes of beauty which 
were all about him. Often his mind re¬ 
verted to a day forty years back when he 
had beheld with boyish eyes this wonder¬ 
ful scene, the great meadows of two 
thousand acres lying like a green carpet 
on either side of the broad majestic river 


PETER, THE PAL 


127 



THEY JOURNEYED FARTHER AFIELD 














128 


PETER 


and the twin mountains standing like 
huge sentinels at the gateway to the sea. 
The picture was just as plain to him as it 
had been forty years before, the green 
pasture land on the lower slopes of the 
mountains, the darker green of the forest 
above, and at the very top the cliff- 
crowned heads of the mountains them¬ 
selves, and above that the blue ethereal 
summer sky. Boys might grow to be 
men, generations might come and go, but 
these mountains dreaming by the side of 
the great river were just as they had been 
half a century before. 

But Peter was not interested in distant 
sky lines nor dreamy mountains. Instead, 
he preferred to chase butterflies through 
the meadow or hunt frogs in the little 
brook that sang by the willows. But, no 
matter how diverting the scene, he would 
return to his master every few minutes to 


PETER, THE PAL 


129 



HE PREFERRED TO CHASE BUTTERFLIES 


see that he was all right. And as for Mr. 
Browning, he felt perfectly safe with 
Peter for a protector. 

In the autumn when the yellow sun¬ 
light of October was streaming over the 
landscape, Peter and the master would go 
to the cornfield out back of the orchard 
and spend a pleasant afternoon. There is 
no season of the year more bewitching 
than this. The promises of summer have 
all been kept, the fruition of fruit and 





130 


PETER 


grain are seen on every hand. The crows 
caw a friendly greeting as they wend their 
way overhead, a jay squalls excitedly in 
the cornfield, and a woodpecker is pound¬ 
ing away on a hollow tree, fashioning his 
winter quarters. 

On such a day as this, the master loved 
to sit with his back against a shock of 
corn, dreaming or thinking out a chapter 
of the new book while Peter amused 
himself in many ways. He would bat a 
puffball to watch it smoke, with a lively 
dog curiosity, or dig for moles. When 
he tired of this diversion, he would return 
to the master. Sometimes he would come 
running hilariously in great bounds and 
with a mighty leap would land fairly upon 
the top of the corn-shock where the master 
was sitting. Then he would slide down 
upon the man’s head, and the master 
would give up his book work for a few 


PETER, THE PAL 131 

minutes and rough-house with Peter. But 
he was always good-natured, and they 
both understood that it was just in fun, 
although Peter often barked and snarled 
furiously. 

In the winter time they had to go to the 
cellar for such frivolities. This was when 
the master sawed and split the kindling 
and did other chores in the basement. 
When he was tired of work, Peter would 
put on some ridiculous act of dog tom¬ 
foolery which would make his master 
laugh. When the man had finally laughed 
in spite of himself, the little comedian was 
perfectly satisfied. Then he would go 
and sit on the other end of the chopping- 
block, under the man’s arm, and the two 
would converse as only a dog and a man 
who understands dog language can. 

When the master rode away in the 
automobile with another man to go fish- 


132 


PETER 


ing, or perhaps to a baseball or football 
game, Peter watched the car out of sight 
and then transferred his affections to the 
mistress. If she happened to be working 
in her flower bed, he would lie in the grass, 
looking at her with adoring eyes until she 
discovered a bone buried in her pansy bed 
or among the tulips. Then he was repri¬ 
manded severely and ordered to bury the 
offensive delicacy in another place. But 
no matter what the time of day, when the 
master was gone, Peter seemed to be 
always watching and waiting for his 
return. He had some sort of dog intui¬ 
tion by which he was able to foretell the 
time of this. About five minutes before 
the automobile would finally appear, 
Peter would take up his position before 
the front door waiting and listening. 
When the car finally rolled into the yard, 
he would bound up and down before the 


PETER, THE PAL 133 

door like a rubber ball, sometimes even 
springing to the very top of the door. 
Then his mistress would let him out and 
he would rush at the master as he alighted 
from the car, as though he would eat him 
up, pirouetting around him, barking and 
bounding and sometimes even rolling over 
on the grass in the exuberance of his 
spirits. If either the master or the mis¬ 
tress were away from the house, Peter 
never fully settled down for the night 
until their return. He seemed to think 
that it was incumbent on him to see that 
every one was safe at home and all was 
well before he retired for the night. 

Peter’s devotion to his master was often 
noted by the people of Shadyville, who 
finally nicknamed him Mr. Browning’s 
shadow. No dog ever more perfectly 
understood what was going on in his mas¬ 
ter’s mind than did Peter. He was so 


134 


PETER 


quick to read the minds of his master and 
mistress, and so often understood their 
conversation about him that they were 
forced to resort to all sorts of code when 
they wished to keep Peter in the dark as 
to their conversation. 

Peter might be having the finest kind 
of a game of romp with some neighbor’s 
dog, but if the master appeared he would 
immediately leave his play to go and sit 
by the man’s side. If Mr. Browning were 
depressed, he never could hide it from 
Peter, for he would sidle up to the mas¬ 
ter’s side, stick his nose in the man’s hand 
and try to comfort him. On the other 
hand, if the master were gay, his manner 
was immediately reflected in the face and 
the actions of the dog. Peter was a sort 
of dog barometer of joy and sorrow in 
Sunshine Cottage. When it was a ques¬ 
tion of his own folks, he fulfilled the 


PETER, THE PAL 135 

Biblical admonition to laugh with those 
who laugh and weep with those who weep 
more fully than do most human beings. 

One summer afternoon Mrs. Browning 
went to Meadowdale to shop and, as she 
sometimes did, left Mr. Browning and 
Peter to mind the house. This was no 
hardship for them, for they always felt 
perfectly satisfied in each other’s com¬ 
pany. Peter watched the car disappear 
down the boulevard to Meadowdale, and 
then turned to his master with a deep sigh 
of satisfaction. His whole manner seemed 
to say: 

“ There, now that she has gene we will 
have a great afternoon, just a man and 
a dog together.” 

But the mistress had not been gone 
more than fifteen minutes when a strange 
and sudden illness came over Mr. Brown¬ 
ing. As nearly as he could make out, it 


136 PETER 

was a heart attack with which he was 
entirely unable to cope. Pie managed to 
grope his way to the couch and fall heavily 
upon it, and then he became nearly uncon¬ 
scious. 

Peter was terrified at this sudden 
strange behavior of the master. He 
seemed to understand that something 
dreadful had happened to him. He licked 
his hands and whimpered and tried in his 
dog way to help, even springing upon the 
couch and rubbing his own small body 
against that of the man, whimpering and 
licking his face. 

Mr. Browning was just conscious of the 
ministrations of his little pal, but could 
make no sign of recognition. Seeing that 
his entreaties were unavailing, Peter 
changed his tactics. He seized the master 
by the coat sleeve and began shaking his 
arm vigorously, growling in a desperate 


PETER, THE PAL 137 

attempt to arouse the man, and in some 
strange way his efforts succeeded. The 
thought came to Mr. Browning that Peter 
was trying to shake him out of his 
lethargy. If this little dog cared so much 
and could make such a great fight in his 
behalf, surely he could make an equally 
heroic effort himself, so he began fighting 
off the impending unconsciousness 
through sheer will-power and prayer. 

Little by little he struggled out of the 
spell that had come over him. By degrees 
his pulse became stronger. As soon as 
he had vitality enough to do so, he patted 
Peter’s head and told him he was a good 
little dog to fight so for his master. The 
dog’s joy at this sign of returning life was 
fairly pathetic. He licked the man’s 
hands and barked joyously, but he did not 
desert his post on the couch until his 
master was much improved and could sit 


138 


PETER 


up and talk to him. When finally Mr. 
Browning went to the kitchen for a drink 
of water, Peter’s hilarity knew no hounds, 
while, as for the man, his gratitude to his 
little friend was beyond words to ex¬ 
press. 

When Mrs. Browning returned, she at 
once remarked on Mr. Browning’s pallor 
and the black lines under his eyes. 

“ I had a dreadful attack of indigestion, 
or heart failure, or something,” he said. 
“ I thought for a few minutes I was a 
goner.” 

“ Did you call a doctor? Did any one 
help you? ” she asked. 

“ No,” he replied, “ it came on so sud¬ 
denly that I didn’t have a chance. The 
only one who helped me was Doctor 
Peter.” 

Then he told her in detail how Peter 
had aroused him from impending uncon- 


PETER, THE PAL 


139 


sciousness, and had shamed him through 
his own pluck and courage into making a 
fight for his life. 

“ I honestly believe, Betty, that if it 
hadn’t been for Peter I should have 
passed out. He put courage and fight 
into me when I seemed to have lost it for 
myself. That dog, Betty, has more 
courage to the pound than any man who 
ever lived.” 

“ He has more love, too, than most men 
or women,” replied Mrs. Browning. 
“ Peter, you are a good dog. I am glad 
you looked out for master so well.” 

Thus month by month the bond of 
friendship and love between the man who 
lived in darkness and the little dog that 
lived in the world of light and beauty 
grew strong, until their companionship 
became the talk of Shadyville, and was re¬ 
marked upon by people from many miles 


140 PETER 

around. Never before in the annals of 
dogdom had a man and a small dog been 
such intimates. 

How beautiful it is, in this old world, 
where animal love is often unrequited, to 
behold such a friendship and understand¬ 
ing as that between Peter and his master. 
When God put all dumb animals under 
man’s dominion, He intended that they 
should be cared for and protected, instead 
of abused, as is too often the case. 


CHAPTER VIII 


KIDNAPPED 

About the middle of the second sum¬ 
mer of Peter’s sojourn at Bird Acre, a 
city boy came to work on a neighboring 
tobacco farm. His name was Stephen 
Belosky, but what his antecedents were, 
no one seemed to know. He was simply 
one of the horde of city urchins who go 
into the country every summer, partly for 
a change from city life, and also to make 
money. Twice a day he passed by Sun¬ 
shine Cottage, going to the post-office for 
his employer, and his attention was soon 
attracted by Peter. He tried to make 
friends with the dog and was quite suc¬ 
cessful, although Peter usually was very 
particular as to his friends. But any boy 


141 


142 


PETER 


who was good to him was apt to win his 
heart. So, little by little, this city urchin 
inveigled his way into Peter’s good graces 
until the dog would watch for him, morn¬ 
ing and night. 

One hot evening he even came into the 
yard and asked Mrs. Browning for a drink 
of water, all the while making up to 
Peter. 

“ That’s a fine dog you have, ma’am,” 
remarked the boy as he was about to leave. 
“ I saw him climb into the baker’s cart 
the other day. Does he like automo¬ 
biles? ” 

“ He’s crazy about them,” returned 
Mrs. Browning. “ He would go almost 
anywhere with any one if he offered him 
an automobile ride.” 

“ Is that so? ” exclaimed the boy ea¬ 
gerly and he turned and looked apprais¬ 
ingly at Peter. Mrs. Browning after- 


KIDNAPPED 


143 


wards remembered the boy’s covetous look 
at the dog and his eagerness at her 
answer, but at the time she gave the inci¬ 
dent little importance. 

One evening when Mr. Browning and 
Peter were sitting on the front steps, 
Stephen again stopped and remarked 
about Peter. 

“ Is that a valuable dog? ” he inquired. 
“ How much would you take for him? ” 

“ Oh, about a thousand dollars,” replied 

% 

Mr. Browning jokingly. 

Stephen gasped at this assurance and 
looked even more covetously at Peter. 

“ I wouldn’t sell him at any price,” said 
Mr. Browning finally, divining that 
Stephen was becoming too much inter¬ 
ested in the dog. “ He’s my little pal, and 
a man doesn’t sell such friends.” 

“ I didn’t have any particular reason 
for asking,” said the boy nonchalantly. 


144 PETER 

“ I just thought he looked like a blooded 
dog.” 

When the tobacco season was over, 
Stephen went back to the city and the 
Brownings saw nothing more of him. 

One warm evening late in August when 
Mr. and Mrs. Browning were sitting on 
the front porch, Mrs. Flanagan came 
hurrying into the yard, and she seemed 
much excited. 

“ Did youse know that Peter had gone 
to ride in a strange car? ” she inquired. 
“ I seed him myself with me own eyes.” 

“Gone to ride! In a strange car!” 
exclaimed Mr. and Mrs. Browning in 
unison. “ Why, what do you mean? He 
was here in the yard fifteen minutes ago.” 

“ Maybe he was,” returned Mrs. Flan¬ 
agan, “ but he ain’t here now. Hiven only 
knows where he is. An automobile was 
dashing along on the main road forninst 


KIDNAPPED 145 

Bird Acre and Peter, Hiven keep him, 
was out in the lot poking around in the 
grass whin this divil wagon came by and 
stopped. It was a closed car, and some 
wan inside opened the door and whistled 
siveral times. Peter looked up in that pert 
way he has and thin wint toward the car 
and finally jumped inside. Then the door 
was slammed and away the car wint at the 
divil’s own clip. When I saw it, I suspi- 
cioned immadiately that something was 
wrong. Do you know anything about it, 
Mr. Browning? ” 

At first the Brownings could not believe 
this astonishing report of Mrs. Flanagan. 
So Mr. Browning whistled, and they 
searched the premises for Peter, but he 
was nowhere to be found. 

“ I tell you he ain’t here,” insisted Mrs. 
Flanagan. “ I saw him with me own eyes 
jump into the automobile and it driv 


146 


PETER 



SOMETHING WAS WRONG 


away like mad. I’m a-thinking that some 
one has kidnapped Peter, he is such a 
pert little chap. I am afeered, Mr. 
Browning, that the dog-snatcher has got 
him.” 

The local police and also those of Mead- 
owdale were at once notified of Peter’s 
disappearance and the following morning 
the local papers carried a description of 
the dog with the offer of a reward for his 




























KIDNAPPED 147 

return. Two or three friends in Meadow- 
dale reported that they had met a car 
going toward the city and that Peter was 
riding in it, together with a red-headed, 
freckle-faced boy who seemed to have him 
in charge. This was all that could be 
learned and the Browning family settled 
down to a long and anxious wait, while 
deepest gloom reigned in Sunshine Cot¬ 
tage. 

Meanwhile Peter was having troubles 
of his own. When the automobile had 
stopped on the boulevard close to the 
place where he was playing and the back 
door of the car had been opened and some 
one inside had whistled to him, he at once 
had scented an invitation for an automo¬ 
bile ride, so he advanced to the car with 
all eagerness. When he discovered that 
the occupant of the back seat was Stephen, 


148 


PETER 


the friendly boy with whom he had become 
acquainted the month before, he accepted 
the whole affair as a bit of good luck and 
jumped into the car beside the boy. 
Stephen made the ride still more pleasant 
to Peter by feeding him with cookies and 
petting him profusely. 

Peter noticed that the car rolled across 
the bridge over the big river and into 
Meadowdale. He noted that it then 
turned south and headed for Millville, 
thence on to Springtown, but by this time 
it was nearly dark so he observed no more 
although the car rolled on through the 
darkness for two hours longer before it 
finally stopped in the city of New 
Brighton in southern Connecticut. The 
building where the car finally came to a 
standstill was in the outskirts of this city 
and was a ramshackle-looking affair. 
After tying a cord in his collar, Stephen 


KIDNAPPED 


149 


invited Peter to alight and the dog was 
finally coaxed up two flights of stairs into 
a large loft room with but one window. 
There were five dogs in the room and each 
was chained, and Peter at once noted they 
were a forlorn-looking lot. 

Stephen led Peter over to one corner of 
the room and snapped a chain into his 
collar and left him, while he went down¬ 
stairs to notify the boss that the new dog 
had come. 

Five minutes later he returned to the 
room closely followed by a dark sinister- 
looking German Jew named Isaac Gold¬ 
stein. 

“ So dis vas your t’ousand tollar tog, iss 
it? ” inquired Mr. Goldstein derisively. 

“ Well, Mr. Browning said that he was 
worth a thousand dollars,” returned 
Stephen stoutly. 

“ He vas chust choking you. He vas a 


150 


PETER 


good tog, perhaps he might pring fifty or 
seventy-five tollars, but a t’ousand tollars, 
bah! ” 

Peter was glad when the disagreeable 
man, whom he had hated instinctively at 
sight, left the room and he was left alone 
with Stephen and the five other discon¬ 
solate dogs. 

During that night, through the silent 
way in which dogs have of communicating 
with one another, Peter learned many 
astonishing things of the other five pris¬ 
oners in this dog jail. He learned that 
they all had come from happy homes like 
his own and in an evil hour had been 
spirited away by the boy, Stephen, and 
brought to this terrible place just as he 
had been. But this was not all; they had 
been so mutilated and changed that even 
their own friends would not have known 
them. One had had his ears cut, another 


KIDNAPPED 151 

both his ears and tail, and a third that had 
had a long shaggy coat had been clipped, 
while a fourth that had formerly been all 
white was now wearing a large black 
blanket, also his head and two front paws 
had been dyed black to match his blanket. 
One by one the dogs that came to this dog 
shambles were spirited away and sold to 
new masters, and their former homes and 
masters were never seen again. 

Peter spent a restless night, and even 
Stephen, hardened as he was to this nefa¬ 
rious traffic, was smitten with qualms of 
conscience as he thought of Mr. Browning 
sitting alone on his piazza at Sunshine 
Cottage without his little pal. They had 
been so inseparable that even the careless 
Stephen had noted it, and now the man 
would sit alone. He who was lonely at 
the very best. Why had Stephen ever 
mentioned the dog to old Goldstein? He 


152 


PETER 


might have known that the old skinflint 
would have wanted him to steal Peter. 

When Goldstein appeared the follow¬ 
ing morning, he was in a great huff and at 
once proceeded to vent his wrath on 
Stephen. 

“You fool poy, it vas chust as I t’ink. 
Dat t’ousand tollar tog of yours iss vorth 
chust about fifty tollars and you make me 
send vay up to Massachusetts after him. 

“ Look at dis letter vich I have chust 
got from mine friend and partner, Moses 
Rosenfeld. He has chust sent me a list 
of all de valuable togs in vestern Mas¬ 
sachusetts and dis t’ousand tollar tog iss 
not even registered.” 

“ How do you know, Mr. Goldstein? ” 
inquired Stephen incredulously. “ Where 
does your partner get all his informa¬ 
tion? ” 


“ Vhere vould he get it put in the tog- 


KIDNAPPED 


153 


snatcher’s directory? In other vords, the 
American Kennel Club’s register. Dose 
fool rich mens keep a fine directory for 
the tog-snatchers.” 

“ Well,” said Stephen, “ I am sorry, 
Mr. Goldstein. I thought he was a 
valuable dog. I know Mr. Browning 
thought he was.” 

“ Veil, Stephen, the mischief iss done. 
You put a big black spot on his preast. 
Den we vill try and sell him.” 

With these instructions, the manager of 
this dog prison disappeared, grumbling at 
his hard luck in not finding Peter regis¬ 
tered. 

In accordance with Mr. Goldstein’s 
instructions, Stephen brought a pail of 
dye, and with a brush proceeded to paint 
a large black spot in the middle of Peter’s 
immaculate bosom shirt, being careful to 
make this added color correspond in shade 


154 


PETER 


exactly with Peter’s own black blanket. 
When Stephen had finished with him, 
even the Brownings, at a casual glance, 
might not have recognized Peter, the 
new markings so changed his looks. 
Stephen then put a mask on the dog in 
order that he might not lick off the dye 
and left him with the rest of the discon¬ 
solate canines, and went to attend to some 
other business of Mr. Goldstein. 

Stephen himself was not a bad boy. 
He was an orphan, and had drifted into 
this nefarious business without fully real¬ 
izing what he was doing. In fact, he was 
nothing but a tool for the unscrupulous 
and avaricious Goldstein. 


CHAPTER IX 


FROM BAD TO WORSE 

Stephen had mercy on Peter the 
second night of his captivity, for he un¬ 
chained him and allowed him the freedom 
of the loft, although the rest of the dog 
prisoners were kept chained. Stephen did 
this out of remorse, for he could not but 
remember the kind people at Shadyville 
and feel sorry for them, especially Mr. 
Browning. 

During the night Stephen had a strange 
dream. He thought that old Goldstein 
came into the loft with a large rubber ball 
about the size of a pumpkin, which he 
began to bounce up and down on the floor. 
This noise was so persistent and finally 


155 


156 PETER 

became so loud that Stephen awoke. As 
he opened his eyes, he looked up at the 
one window in the loft and thought for a 
second that he saw the back of Peter’s 
head clearly silhouetted against the sky 
outside and a second later heard the re¬ 
sounding bump which had been a part of 
his dream. He hurriedly secured a flash¬ 
light and looked about to see what had 
awakened him, but old Goldstein and the 
big ball were not there. Peter, however, 
was awake and seemed to be wandering 
around the room, but Stephen thought 
little of this and so went back to sleep. 

Stephen’s instantaneous glimpse of 
Peter’s head framed in the window had 
not been a dream but a reality, for the dog 
had been bounding up and down before 
the window, getting an instantaneous view 
of things outside. He was reconnoiter- 
ing, as he had often done by jumping up 


FROM BAD TO WORSE 157 


and looking out of the window in the top 
of the front door at Sunshine Cottage. 

What he had seen of the outer world 
in these three or four quick glimpses was 
not promising. Twelve or fifteen feet be¬ 
low was the edge of a roof, and fifteen feet 
below that the brick pavement. 

The following morning when old Gold¬ 
stein came up to the loft he was noisy and 
quarrelsome, and Stephen saw at once 
that he had been drinking again. In such 
moods he was a bad customer, and the boy 
shrank from the ordeal of meeting him. 

Goldstein at once assailed Stephen. 
“ Vhat you got that Peter tog loose for? 
[You tie him up dis minute. Don’t I tell 
you to keep all the togs tied up all de 
time? ” 

“ I just let him loose for a minute, Mr. 
Goldstein,” apologized Stephen. “ I will 
tie him up at once.” 


158 


PETER 


“ I vill tie him up myself,” said Gold¬ 
stein. “ You go down to the post-office 
and get the mail. Here, come here, you 
Peter tog.” 

But instead of coming, Peter retired 
into the farther corner of the loft and 
stood facing the intoxicated man belliger¬ 
ently. Peter had hated him instinctively 
ever since the first night of their meeting. 

“Vhat! You vill not come. Ve vill 
see,” and he advanced upon Peter with a 
great show of bluster. 

“ Don’t, Mr. Goldstein,” interjected 
Stephen. “ Let me tie him up. It won’t 
take but a minute, and then I will go to 
the post-office.” 

“ I vill tie him myself. He defies me,” 
exclaimed the Jew growing more wrath¬ 
ful every moment. But when he put out 
his hand for Peter’s collar the dog showed 
his teeth and growled so savagely that the 


FROM BAD TO WORSE 159 

bully drew back. But at this sign of rebel¬ 
lion on the dog’s part, his anger knew no 
bounds. Old Goldstein was always that 
way when he was in his cups. 

“ Pring me my revolver, Stephen. I 
vill kill the little cur,” said Goldstein in 
uncontrollable rage. 

“ Oh, don’t, Mr. Goldstein,” implored 
Stephen. “ He doesn’t belong to us, he 
belongs to Mr. Browning.” 

“ He pelongs to Mr. Prowning, does 
he? Veil, vhat did I send a automobile 
seventy-five miles for, and vhat for did 
you steal him? I tell you he pelongs to 
me. If you say another vord, I vill turn 
you over to the police at vunce as a tog- 
stealer.” 

Stephen was in a quandary, so he tem¬ 
porized. 

“ Mr. Goldstein, if you shoot him, some 
one will hear the shot and there will be 


160 PETER 

an investigation. The police will clean 
out the whole place/’ 

This startling fact arrested the atten¬ 
tion of Goldstein for a moment. 

“ Veil,” he said, “ I vill take a club,” 
and he took up a stout cudgel which was 
in a corner near by and started toward 
poor Peter, still facing him belligerently 
in his corner. 

“ Don’t,” cried Stephen in terror. 
“ He’ll yell when you hit him, and that 
will be just as bad as a shot, to call the 
police.” 

But Goldstein’s rage was now so great 
that he threw caution to the wind and 
advanced upon Peter with the club 
gripped firmly in both hands. 

Peter could see that the man was in a 
terrible rage, and he knew full well what 
the club meant, yet he was not afraid. He 
steeled his muscles and watched the man’s 


FROM BAD TO WORSE 161 

every movement as one boxer watches 
another. 

When Goldstein had come almost 
within striking distance, quick as a flash, 
Peter sprang full in his face, even before 
the man realized what he was going to do. 

The first indication of the dog’s sudden 
movement that the infuriated Jew had was 
when he looked straight into the dog’s 
open mouth about six inches from the end 
of his nose. 

With a cry of rage and fear he dropped 
his club and reeled backward, tripping 
over the club as he retreated and falling 
heavily to the floor. Stephen groaned at 
the sight. He knew that now it was all up 
with Peter. Old Goldstein would surely 
kill the dog after this. 

But Peter did not wait to be killed. 
Instead, he wheeled like a flash and 
sprang with all his strength straight at 


162 


PETER 



THERE WAS A TERRIBLE CRASH 


the one window in the large room. There 
was a terrible crash of breaking glass 
and wood and then a heavy thump as the 
dog struck the piazza roof beneath and 
after that silence. 

“ Vhere is he? Vhere is he?” cried 
Goldstein scrambling to his feet. “ Get 
me my revolver. I vas a fool to use the 
club on such a little tevil.” 


“ He isn’t here, Mr. Goldstein,” 









































FROM BAD TO WORSE 163 


returned Stephen. “If you want to 
know where he went, look at that win¬ 
dow.” 

“Vhat!” cried the Jew, gazing in 
astonishment at the broken window where 
the sash had been carried away as well as 
the two lower panes. “ Vhat, you don’t 
mean to tell me he chumped through that 
vindow! ” 

“ That’s just what he did, Mr. Gold¬ 
stein,” returned Stephen triumphantly. 

“ Veil, den I von’t have to shoot him. 
You chust go outside, Stevie, and find him 
and bury him. If any vun says anyt’ing 
to you, you say he vas hit by an automo¬ 
bile in the street.” 

Stephen hurried away to do his em¬ 
ployer’s bidding, but returned after five 
minutes and reported that Peter was no¬ 
where to be found. He was not on the 
roof, nor on the pavement beneath, and 


164 PETER 

had disappeared as though the earth had 
opened and swallowed him. 

When Peter had landed on the piazza 
roof with a loud thump, it had not jarred 
him up badly, as the roof was covered 
with tin and there was just enough spring 
in it to break his fall. But when he 
peeked over the roof to the pavement 
beneath he had some misgivings. It was a 
good fifteen feet and the pavement was 
brick and did not look inviting, yet he did 
not hesitate a minute. This was his only 
avenue of escape so the small dynamic 
body went hurtling into the air. When 
he struck, in spite of himself, he gave a 
yelp of pain, for there had been a sharp 
twinge in his shoulder. But this was no 
time to stop for such things, so pulling 
himself together he limped away on three 
legs down the first street that offered, and 
so escaped from the hideous dog prison. 


FROM BAD TO WORSE 165 

He made as good time as a small dog 
on three legs could, so when Stephen had 
appeared in the yard to look for him he 
had been three blocks away. 

For a time Peter wandered aimlessly 
about the city trying to get his bearings. 
Unfortunately he had slept for the last 
hour of the drive down, so had not noticed 
the landscape, but gradually his sense of 
orientation asserted itself. He pointed 
his nose northward and trotted out of the 
city on the State road to Windham. 

But running on three legs was quite 
different from going on four, and he had 
to stop every mile or two and rest his 
overworked right paw. The left shoulder 
pained him badly and before he had cov¬ 
ered the ten miles to Windham his right 
paw had raised a stone blister which made 
traveling very difficult. 

When he finally limped into Windham, 


166 


PETER 


as good or ill luck would have it, he ran 
immediately into a policeman. 

The officer noted his pitiable condition 
and advanced to make friends with him. 
Ordinarily Peter would have run away at 
his best pace, but the man seemed kind 
and he was very lonely and heart-sick, so 
he advanced to meet the officer, wagging 
his stub tail and grinning in his most 
friendly manner. 

“ Hello, little dog. What is the matter 
with your paw? Are you lost? ” inquired 
the officer. 

Peter was instantly impressed by the 
friendly voice, and knew he had judged 
the man correctly, and that he would 
help him. When the policeman passed 
his hand lightly over Peter’s shoulder, the 
dog winced in spite of himself. 

“ I thought so,” said Sergeant Martin. 
“ A shoulder sprain. That’s too bad, little 


FROM BAD TO WORSE 167 

chap. Who do you belong to? ” And he 
stooped down to look at the collar. 

Peter was delighted to have him look 
at his collar, for in the past when people 
had seen the name of his master on the 
fine double-studded collar that he always 
wore, they had shown Peter great respect, 
but that collar at the present time was in 
a box with a dozen others up in the loft 
from which Peter had just escaped, while 
the collar that he now wore was just a 
plain strap with no name plate on it. 

Seeing that Peter was very lame and 
judging that he was lost, the kind-hearted 
policeman tied a string in his collar and 
started with him to headquarters. He 
would keep him for a day or two and 
advertise, and if that did not produce an 
owner for him, he would take him to the 
Animal Rescue League. That was the 
best he could do. 


168 


PETER 


When Sergeant Martin came into head¬ 
quarters with the forlorn-looking three- 
legged dog in tow the chief looked at him 
in disgust. 

“ So you’ve picked up another mutt, 
have you, Martin? Well, you make me 
tired, just as though the city hadn’t any¬ 
thing to do but feed all the strange curs 
that can be found.” 

“ This isn’t a mutt, chief,” returned 
Martin; “he is a blooded dog, and is 
somebody’s pet, although he hasn’t got 
much of a collar on. I want to keep him 
for a day or two and see if I can locate 
his owner. I will feed him myself, and 
the city won’t be out anything on the 
proposition.” 

So Sergeant Martin made Peter as 
comfortable as he could and went out and 
bought him a quart of milk and a loaf of 
bread, while Peter on his part licked the 


FROM BAD TO WORSE 169 


officer’s hands and was as grateful as a 
little lost dog could well be. 

Sergeant Martin advertised in the local 
papers for Peter’s owner and made many 
inquiries, but all to no purpose. He had 
about made up his mind that he would 
have to take him over to the Animal 
Rescue League when two things hap¬ 
pened that made quite a difference. The 
Sergeant was out on his beat and the chief 
had a grouch on. Peter always got out 
of the way when he saw him coming for 
he did not like this gruff man. He 
divined instinctively that he was a dog- 
hater. 

It happened this time that, with his 
lame shoulder, Peter was not quick 
enough and the chief stumbled over him. 

“ Here, you, Officer Kelly,” he called, 
“ come in here. You take this miserable 
cur into the lethal chamber and put him to 


170 


PETER 


sleep. I am sick of having him hanging 
around here and the city hasn’t got any 
money to feed lost mutts with.” 

“ But he is Sergeant Martin’s proposi¬ 
tion,” objected Kelly. “ He says he will 
take him over to the Animal Rescue 
League in a day or two.” 

“ That won’t do,” growled the chief. 
“ You do what I tell you, and don’t argue 
about it.” 

Peter felt instinctively that the harsh 
words of the disagreeable man had to do 
with him, yet he did not resist when 
Officer Kelly took him up and carried him 
into a back room. He felt intuitively 
that he was in the clutches of a force 
that was much stronger than he and to 
resist was futile. So he did the only thing 
that he could, and that was to lick the 
officer’s hand in dumb pleading. When 
Kelly finally thrust Peter into a very tight 


FROM BAD TO WORSE 171 

box about the size of a dog kennel and 
slammed the door, a sense of fear over¬ 
whelmed the dog’s stout little heart that 
had never quailed before. He had not 
been afraid when old Goldstein had stood 
over him with a club, but there was some¬ 
thing sinister about this strange box into 
which he had been thrust so unceremo¬ 
niously, and his suspicions became frenzy 
when a choking, numbing odor filled the 
enclosure. This odor was like nothing he 
had ever smelled before, and it was taking 
away his senses and paralyzing him. In a 
last desperate effort to save himself Peter 
lifted up his voice in a long desolate howl 
which was at once a prayer for deliverance 
and a cry for help. Perhaps his master 
would hear. If he were only here he 
would make this dreadful man open the 
door and release him. 

Yet Peter’s despairing cry was not in 


172 


PETER 


vain. It had barely died away when 
Sergeant Martin hurried in, triumphantly 
waving a copy of the latest edition of the 
local newspaper. 

“ Here, Kelly, what are you doing? ” 
he cried. “You aren’t chloroforming 
that little dog, are you? ” 

“ Chief’s orders,” replied his brother 
officer apologetically. 

“ I don’t care if it is,” returned Martin 
and he sprang forward and released the 
dog. 

Choking and gasping Peter staggered 
out into the fresh air. He was so drunk 
with chloroform that he could scarce 
stand. He staggered about the room like 
an intoxicated dog, bumping into the 
walls and furniture. 

“ You poor little beggar,” said Martin. 
“ I came just in time, but I guess you 
will be all right. Listen to this, Kelly, it 


FROM BAD TO WORSE 173 

is among the lost animal ads in my home¬ 
town paper. 


“ 4 Have you seen Peter? He is a 
large fox terrier, black and white, 
with a tan dot over each eye. If you 
are in doubt, light a match, and if it 
is Peter, he will put it out and then 
eat up the stick. Telephone any 
information to Meadowdale, 2834, 
and get your reward.’ ” 

When Peter had fully recovered his 
senses, Martin called him over to his side 
and snapping his fingers, said: 

“ Peter, old boy, how’s Peter? ” 

The effect of these words was amazing, 
for with a glad bark the forlorn dog 
sprang into the officer’s lap and began 
licking his face frantically. 

“ I guess it’s Peter, all right,” said 
Martin triumphantly, “ but I will try the 
other test also. Give me a match, Kelly.” 
Peter watched intently while the officer 


174 PETER 

lit the match and when it was thrust in 
front of him he pounced upon the flame 
like a cat on a mouse and batted it with 
his paw until it was extinguished. Then, 
wonder of wonders, he ate up the stick. 

“ Hurray,” cried Martin joyously. 
“ It is Peter, sure as preaching. Now I’m 
going to telephone to his owner, and I’ll 
bet he will be a happy man to get him 
back. I have fallen in love with him my¬ 
self.” 

Meanwhile sorrow and loneliness 
reigned at Sunshine Cottage. Mr. 
Browning had put in most of his time 
during the week that his little pal had 
been gone, writing to friends in all parts 
of New England, scanning the news¬ 
papers, and listening for the telephone 
every hour of the day. Nothing seemed 
natural in the great house without Peter. 


FROM BAD TO WORSE 175 


On the seventh day of his absence, 
about the middle of the afternoon, the 
telephone rang and Mr. Browning hurried 
to answer it, hoping, as he had hoped with 
every ring the past week, that the message 
would bring him word of his little pal. 

“ Hello,” said the voice at the other 
end of the wire, “ I think I have found 
your little dog. He is here in the police 
station at Windham, Connecticut. We 
are holding him for you.” 

“ How is he marked? ” inquired Mr. 

. ip* ■<*•>* * i 

Browning, and the officer at the other end 
of the line felt the anxiety in the man’s 
voice. 

“ He is marked just as you described 
him in your ad in the Meadowdale paper, 
but he has a large black patch on his 
breast, and you did not mention this in 
your ad.” 

“ I’m afraid it is not Peter,” said the 


176 PETER 

other fearfully. “ He had no such mark¬ 
ings as that.” 

“ But he answers to the name of Peter 
and he put out a match just as you de¬ 
scribed,” continued the officer. 

“ That’s very strange,” said Mr. 
Browning. “ Could you bring him to the 
telephone? ” 

“ Sure thing,” replied the officer, and a 
second later he reported that Mr. Dog 
was waiting to begin the conversation. 

“Hello, Peter! Rats!” cried Mr. 
Browning in an excited voice, shooting 
the last word into the receiver with a pop 
like a soda bottle. 

There was a sound of joyous barking 
at the other end of the wire and then a 
loud bang, and Mr. Browning divined 
that the telephone had been upset, but 
presently the conversation was resumed. 

“ You must excuse me,” said the officer, 


FROM BAD TO WORSE 177 


“ but your little dog nearly jumped into 
the telephone when you spoke to him. It’s 
Peter, all right; there isn’t a doubt about 
it.” 

“ Hurrah,” cried Mr. Browning, “ you 
hold right on to his collar tight and I 
will be down after him in about two hours. 
See you later. Good-bye.” 

“ Betty,” called Mr. Browning joy¬ 
ously, hurrying into the kitchen. 
“ They’ve found Peter. He is seventy 
miles away and we have got just two 
hours to make it.” 

“We can’t do it,” returned Mrs. 
Browning. “ I have got to wash my face 
and change my clothes and that will take 
half an hour.” 

“ Don’t bother to do either,” returned 
Mr. Browning pleadingly. “No one will 
know whether your face is washed or not 
when Peter gets through with you.” 


178 PETER 

His counsel finally prevailed and ten 
minutes later the car rolled out of the yard 
on its way to Windham. 

It was a happy family party that 
motored home on that September evening. 
Peter was so overjoyed at being with his 
folks again that he did not care for the 
landscape or external things, but was 
perfectly content to cuddle down on the 
back seat beside the master with his head 
in the man’s lap while Mr. Browning 
stroked Peter’s head and fondled his ears 
and talked to him in a way that ravished 
his dog heart. 

When Peter had devoted an hour to his 
master, not to be partial, he crawled over 
to the front seat and lay with his head 
in his mistress’ lap and she, too, fondled 
his ears as they rode home to Shadyville. 

There was one good thing that resulted 
from this kidnapping. No matter how 


FROM BAD TO WORSE 179 


many strange cars came into the yard at 
Bird Acre or how long they stayed Peter 
never again tried to steal a ride in any of 
them. He might look wistfully at the 
strange car, but that was all. He had 
learned his lesson well. 


CHAPTER X 


PETER TO THE RESCUE 

After having consulted a dye expert 
as to Peter’s new markings, the master 
spent half of two days in an endeavor to 
wash out the objectionable color. He suc¬ 
ceeded fairly well, although the dog’s 
bosom shirt did not resume its immaculate 
white for several days. His fore paws did 
not matter so much, as they were always 
more or less dingy. 

The next time Peter’s folks went to 
Meadowdale, they took him along and 
presented him with a brand-new double- 
studded collar which had not only the 
master’s name and address on the name 

i 

plate, but Peter’s name also. As he rode 
home that afternoon, standing, as he 

180 


PETER TO THE RESCUE 181 


usually did, on both seats and looking out 
of all four windows at once, he was a very 
proud little dog, yet he seemed to be on 
his best behavior, for he made no outcry 
when objectionable dogs were seen by the 
roadside. His manner seemed to say, “ I 
am dressed up to-day and can’t get into 
scraps.” 

“ I wish,” observed Mr. Browning as 
the car rolled into the yard at Bird Acre, 
“ that Peter would calm down and get 
over some of his dog heroics. He is too 
small a canine to always be taking the 
part of the under dog when a pup is get¬ 
ting chewed up.” 

“ But don’t you want Peter to be good 
to small dogs? ” inquired Mrs. Browning. 

“ Oh, yes,” replied Mr. Browning 
grudgingly. “ But there is one small dog 
that X want him to be especially good to, 
and that’s himself. Somehow he doesn’t 


182 PETER 

ever think of Peter, and I am mightily 
afraid that some day a police dog will get 
a strangle-hold on his throat and I won’t 
have my little pal any more. Why, a 
police dog could break his neck at a single 
bite if he got just the right chance.” 

“ I don’t think you need worry about 
Peter,” returned Mrs. Browning. “ If 
you ever saw him in a scrap with a police 
dog, you would not. Why, he’s all over 
the place, around the big dog, and over 
him and under him like a flash. I never 
yet saw Peter fight with a police dog but 
that after a minute or two the big dog 
slunk out of the yard looking very much 
ashamed of himself, with Peter barking at 
his heels. The big dog’s manner always 
seems to say, ‘ You see how it is. I could 
fight him if he only stayed still, but he is 
just a jumping-jack, he isn’t a dog at 
all.’ ” 


PETER TO THE RESCUE 183 

For an entire month after Peter’s re¬ 
turn from the harrowing experiences with 
the kidnappers, everything went so 
smoothly at Sunshine Cottage that Mr. 
Browning began to think he had been too 
anxious about the dog. Mrs. Browning 
was probably right, Peter could doubtless 
take care of himself. Well, it was the 
price one always pays for loving a dog 
overmuch. There was always the anxiety 
about him, and if no accident befell, there 
was always that grim specter of old age 
for the faithful dog when he would be deaf 
or perhaps partly blind and would look 
at one with dumb, pleading eyes, implor¬ 
ing the master to do something to turn 
back the approaching night. But often 
the calmest days precede the storm, and 
so it was in Peter’s case. For without 
the slightest warning he participated in a 
bit of dog heroics that made him not only 


184 


PETER 


the hero of Shadyville but also of the en¬ 
tire countryside, although it left him much 
the worse for the combat. 

Five houses below Sunshine Cottage on 
the same side of the broad street which 
was the main avenue of Shady ville there 
lived a young farmer named Henry 
Adams. He and Mrs. Adams had one 
child, a girl eight years of age, named 
Elsie. She was very fond of Peter, as she 
had no dog of her own, and always called 
him in and made much of him whenever 
he was passing the house. It happened 
that on this particular evening she had 
espied Peter on the sidewalk and had 
taken him into the orchard for a romp. 

As ill luck would have it, Mr. Adams 
had taken his prize Jersey bull out into 
the yard for exercise at this particular 
hour. No one ever knew just how it hap¬ 
pened, for the man thought he had the 


PETER TO THE RESCUE 185 



PETER ADVANCED UPON THE BULL 



186 


PETER 


bull under perfect control. He was lead¬ 
ing him by a staff which was fastened 
into a ring in the bull’s nose, but in an 
evil moment the ring pulled out and at 
the same instant the vicious animal espied 
little Elsie coming through the orchard 
wearing a bright red sweater, with Peter 
dancing and barking at her side. 

From time immemorial, the red cape of 
the toreador has been provocation for any 
well-behaved bull to charge, and this prize 
Jersey of Mr. Adams was no exception to 
the rule. Before the terrified farmer could 
know what had happened the bull was 
bearing down upon his little daughter 
with deadly intent. But there was a small 
champion between the girl and the great 
brute. Peter threw himself into the gap 
and advanced upon the bull, barking 
furiously as he came. The infuriated 
animal was so astonished at this small 


PETER TO THE RESCUE 187 

adversary that he stopped for a moment 
to lunge at the dog viciously. Peter 
sprang to one side, and as he did so the 
infuriated animal dealt him a savage blow 
with one of his horns. Two ribs snapped, 
but that did not daunt him, for again he 
sprang at the great brute’s head, and this 
time fastened his teeth for a few seconds 
in the bull’s nose. Bellowing with rage 
and shaking his head furiously, he soon 
dislodged the dog, for Peter’s grip was 
not that of a bulldog, that might have 
held on, but, nothing daunted, Peter was 
up again and at his great adversary. This 
time he caught him by the fore leg and 
held on desperately. 

The infuriated animal bellowed and 
stamped with rage. Yet it took him 
several seconds to dislodge the gritty dog, 
and in the half-minute that passed during 
this one-sided battle, little Elsie made her 


188 PETER 

escape into the barn and up a ladder into 
the hay-loft. 

Meanwhile Mr. Adams had not been 
idle, but with frantic haste had seized a 
gun which stood loaded in a back room 
and just as the bull freed himself from 
Peter’s grip the second time and was 
about to crush him with one of his big 
hoofs, the report of a gun rang out along 
Shadyville’s quiet streets and the prize 
bull fell dead in the orchard grass almost 
on top of Peter. 

It was Mrs. Flanagan as usual who 
brought the disturbing news. She rushed 
into the house without ringing, excited 
and out of breath. 

“ Sure, Mr. Browning, and did you 
hear the terrible news? It’s Mr. Adams 
that’s bringing Peter in a wheelbarrow. 
He ain’t dead, but he is beat up pretty 
badly. It was a haythenish bull that did 


PETER TO THE RESCUE 189 

it. He had on a red sweater and Elsie 
charged him, I mean it was the bull that 
charged and Elsie had on the sweater. 
Here comes Mr. Adams now. I can hear 
the squaking of the wheelbarrow.” 

Mr. Browning hurried out to investi¬ 
gate, and found the wheelbarrow with 
Peter in it at the front door. 

“ I am awfully sorry about your little 
dog, Mr. Browning,” said Mr. Adams. 
44 1 hated to shoot the bull, but I couldn’t 
let him kill Peter after he had saved 
Elsie.” 

Under Mr. Browning’s instructions 
Peter was carried into the kitchen and 
deposited on the cedar chest close to the 
window while Mr. Browning telephoned 
the veterinary. 

An examination disclosed the fact that 
the dog had two fractured ribs and a badly 
crushed paw. 


190 


PETER 


“ I guess he will be all right after a 
week or two,” said Doctor Benson, “ if 
there are no internal injuries. I will 
patch him up the best I can, and you will 
have to keep him perfectly quiet.” 

“ I don’t know who is going to keep 
Peter perfectly quiet,” remarked Mr. 
Browning ruefully when the veterinary 
had left. “ The first time he sees a police 
dog come into the yard he’ll want to go 
out and drive him off.” 

“ Oh, I guess he won’t,” returned Mrs. 
Browning. “ He’s so badly damaged that 
he’ll forget about police dogs.” 

But the following forenoon Mrs. 
Browning hurried into the study very 
much excited. 

“You will have to come, Lawrence, 
and calm Peter down,” she said. “ He 
has discovered a police dog, and is bounc¬ 
ing up and down in front of the door 


PETER TO THE RESCUE 191 


enough to smash his good paw. I don’t 
know what I am going to do with him.” 

Mr. Browning returned Peter to the 
chest and pulled down the curtain so that 
he couldn’t look out of the window and 
all was quiet. In two weeks’ time the 
veterinary removed the girdle about 
Peter’s body, which had held the broken 
ribs in place, and took off the splints. He 
then pronounced him as good as new, and 
ready for another fracas. 

During that third winter at Sunshine 
Cottage the fox terrier wriggled his way 
deeper into the affections of his master 
and mistress and became more idolized by 
these two kind-hearted people than he had 
ever been before. 

One evening about the first of April 
Mrs. Browning reported that Peter 
would not come in for the night. 

“He seems to be watching the hen- 


192 PETER 

house,” she said, “ and won’t come in from 
the back piazza.” 

“Let him stay out if he wants to,” 
said Mr. Browning. “You throw out an 
old rug on the porch and let him sleep 
outside if he wishes to. He is a wise little 
chap and knows what he is about.” 

Mr. Browning thought no more of the 
incident until about midnight when he 
was awakened by a prodigious racket in 
the vicinity of the henhouse. There was 
the sharp barking of Peter, interspersed 
with yelps of rage and occasionally a note 
of fear from the infuriated fox terrier. 
Mr. Browning was much astonished by 
the outcry, and genuinely alarmed, for 
when had he ever heard a note of fear 
from Peter? 

The melee sounded serious, so he 
sprang out of bed and slipping on his 
trousers and a sweater hurried through 


PETER TO THE RESCUE 193 

the hall to the front door. As he turned 
the key in the lock, he noted that the dis¬ 
turbance had resolved itself into a running 
fight through the yard, and he now plainly 
heard the sounds of a man’s feet and the 
squawking of hens in addition to Peter’s 
perpetual outcry. 

As the man stepped from the piazza, a 
revolver shot awoke sinister echoes along 
the quiet street, and this was followed by 
an agonized cry from Peter. 

Unspeakably appalled by this evidence 
of a night tragedy, Mr. Browning hurried 
to the spot where his little pal lay on the 
grass, his yelps of pain growing fainter 
and fainter. As he knelt to lift up his 
faithful friend, he was joined by Mrs. 
Browning who had also been awakened 
by the commotion. 

“ What has happened? ” she cried. 
“ What is the matter with Peter? ” 


194 


PETER 


“ Can’t you see? ” choked the man. 
“ They have shot him.” 

“ I don’t believe he is dead,” returned 
the mistress. “ He is wagging his tail, so 
he can’t be.” 

“Yes, and he is licking my hand,” 
replied Mr. Browning, “ but he is almost 
gone. What is that piece of cloth he has 
in his mouth, Betty? ” 

“ It is a piece of some one’s old pants,” 
replied Mrs. Browning. “ Don’t you 
remember, Lawrence, you have always 
said no one could steal anything on the 
place when Peter was around and get 
away with whole trousers.” 

Mr. Browning groaned. “ I was think¬ 
ing of boys,” he said, “ and not of thugs. 
I wish they had taken hens, henhouse, 
and all and left me Peter. You steady 
me by the arm, and I will carry him into 
the house.” 


PETER TO THE RESCUE 195 



NO ONE COULD STEAL ANYTHING 


Tenderly the master lifted the limp 
figure of his little chum and carried him 
into the kitchen where he laid him gently 
on the cedar chest and covered him with 
his blanket. Then he telephoned Doctor 
Benson. 

After a careful examination, the vet¬ 
erinary reported that the dog had been 
shot through the lungs. 

“ I don’t think he has a ghost of a 
chance to get well,” he said, “ but if you 


196 PETER 

want, I will take him over to the hospital. 
I have two or three very sick dogs, and 
my man will be up all night with them. 
This little fellow will have to have a 
stimulant every hour if we are going to 
pull him through.” 

Ordinarily the Brownings would never 
have allowed Peter to leave the house. 
They would have nursed him themselves, 
but this case was so desperate that they 
finally consented. So the seemingly life¬ 
less little defender was wrapped up in a 
warm blanket and taken away to the dog 
hospital while deepest gloom reigned in 
Sunshine Cottage, for the light and the 
life of the place had gone out of it and 
the chances were that they never would 
return. 

Peter had fallen like a small dog sol¬ 
dier, fighting for his master’s rights, and 
the only country he knew, Bird Acre. To 


PETER TO THE RESCUE 197 

his simple dog mind, Sunshine Cottage 
was its citadel, and its citizenry, his be¬ 
loved master and mistress. He had placed 
his small body between them and danger, 
and no human soldier could have done 


more. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE EMPTY HOUSE 

“ It is incredible that the love of one 
small dog could have filled a great house 
from garret to cellar,” wrote Mr, Brown¬ 
ing on the fifth day after the night 
tragedy, “ yet this is so. Heaven only 
knows how lonely the two people are in 
the big house. Since Peter went, it is so 
still that even the ticking of the clock is 
painful. It is as though some human 
friend who had tarried with us long had 
been borne out through the front door, 
leaving an aching void in every room. 

“ There is no place either in the house 
or on the premises where I can go to 
escape this haunting sorrow. If I sit 
down in my big easy-chair to rest and 


198 


THE EMPTY HOUSE 199 



think, I miss the warm little muzzle that 
was thrust into my hand, and then if I 
smiled, the eager little body that bounded 
into my lap, pressing a warm dog’s heart 
close to my breast, for Peter’s heart was 
as true as steel. He wanted little for 
himself, but he did love to pour out the 
pure affection of his loving heart upon his 
folks. 

“ When I sat down at the radio, there 
was formerly a little radio pal that sat in 
my lap; or if I were too tired to hold him, 
he would stand with his hind feet on a 
chest opposite and his fore feet resting on 





















200 PETER 

the radio table, looking up into my face 
for half an hour at a time. 

“ Formerly, when I went from room to 
room, there was a little pusher following 
behind with his muzzle close to my leg 
trying to steer me into the room where I 
wished to go. It did not matter if we. 
sometimes found the wrong place, but the 
fact that the little dog so loved his master 
that he wished to help him was the thing 
that counted. 

“ In other days, when I sat down at 
the dinner table, there was a little beggar 
by my side teasing for pie-crust, but now 
I have to eat my own pie-crust, and it 
chokes me because of the lump in my 
throat. In the good old days when I 
went down cellar to split kindling, there 
was a little dog comedian that went along. 
He would put on all sorts of funny dog 
stunts, fights between a dog and an old 


THE EMPTY HOUSE 201 

shoe or a stick of wood, just to amuse his 
master. Then when I was tired of chop¬ 
ping kindling and stopped to rest, he 
would come and sit on the opposite end 
of the chopping-block and snuggle up 
close and tell me in dog language that he 
knew it was a hard old world and that 
perhaps his master was tired and dis¬ 
couraged, but he would do all he could to 
help with his dumb dog love. 

“ Formerly, when I walked on the 
piazza, there was a little dog soldier that 
marched by my side, keeping step with 
me, stopping when I stopped, wheeling 
when I wheeled. When we were tired of 
marching, we would sit down on the top 
step and he would snuggle up under my 
arm and rest his head against my breast 
and heave a big dog sigh of perfect con¬ 
tent. At such times Peter wished for 
nothing more. 


202 


PETER 


“ In days gone by, when I alighted 
from the automobile at the front of the 
house, there was a glad rush of joyous 
feet and a hilarious dog friend bounding 
into the air as high as my head, barking 
and rolling over on the ground because he 
was so glad that master had returned, but 
now when I alight there is just a sodden 
silence. 

“ The mistress misses him as much as I 
do. When she used to pare potatoes, 
there was a little chum that sat by her 
side, begging for just three pieces of raw 
potatoes, never four nor two, but always 
three. Peter could certainly count three. 
When the mistress shook down the fur¬ 
nace fire, there was a little fireman that 
stood by her side, watching to see that no 
ember or spark flew out of the grate. If 
so much as one tiny spark appeared, he 
was upon it like a flash, putting it out 


THE EMPTY HOUSE 203 

with his paw, even though he burned him¬ 
self in the act. 

“ Many years ago Bobby Burns wrote 
a remarkable poem about man’s inhu¬ 
manity to man, but it remains for some 
modern poet to write a still more touch¬ 
ing poem on man’s inhumanity to dogs.” 


CHAPTER XII 


A dog’s LOVE 

One afternoon about a week after the 
night tragedy reported in a previous 
chapter, Mr. Browning noticed that his 
wife was going from window to window" 
with a dish of water and a wash-cloth, and 
he wondered what she was doing in such 
a hurried manner. 

“ What, are you giving the windows a 
lick and a promise? ” he inquired. 

“ No,” replied Mrs. Browning sadly. 
“ I am washing off Peter’s little nose- 
prints on the lower panes. There is 
hardly a window on the first floor where 
there are not some of his marks. It 
makes me feel bad to see them, now that 
he is not here, so I am washing them off. 

204 


A DOG’S LOVE 


205 

I have also put up his rubber ball and the 
playthings that he used to take to bed 
with him.” 

Mr. Browning sighed. “ It is just an¬ 
other case of 4 the little tin soldier covered 
with rust,’ ” he remarked sadly. “ I 
sometimes wonder whether it is 4 better to 
have loved and lost than never to have 
loved at all.’ ” 

44 We haven’t really lost him yet,” re¬ 
turned Mrs. Browning, 44 but I sometimes 
question whether we ought to try to keep 
Peter or not.” 

44 1 have the same qualms myself,” said 
Mr. Browning. 44 1 spend half of the 
night making up my mind to call the 
veterinary in the morning and tell him to 
send Peter over the great divide, but 
when morning comes I can’t do it. The 
police headquarters at Meadowdale tele¬ 
phoned me yesterday that they had caught 


206 PETER 

the chicken thief, if that is any comfort. 
He will probably get a year for his evil 
deed. That ought to appease Peter’s 
militant little spirit.” 

“ What do you mean by Peter’s mili¬ 
tant spirit? Of course I know he always 
fought for his own rights and ours, too.” 

“ Well,” said Mr. Browning, “ I don’t 
just know how to tell you what I do 
mean. Perhaps you will think it is queer, 
but ever since that wretched night I have 
seemed to feel Peter standing by my bed¬ 
side imploring me to punish the man who 
shot him. Sometimes it seemed as though 
I could touch him with my hand, and at 
such times I imagine I can hear those 
half-stifled sobs that he used to give away 
down in his throat when he was in pain. 
Don’t you remember, Betty, how when 
he got chewed up or injured in any way 
he would always crawl under my bed and 


A DOG’S LOVE 207 

stay there for an hour or two? He 
seemed to think there was some virtue 
about the bed that would heal him.” 

“ I guess he just felt it was your bed, 
and he knew you always wanted to help 
him,” replied Mrs. Browning. “ But I 
can tell you something equally foolish. 
When I pare potatoes, I always cut off 
three pieces and lay them aside for a little 
shadow dog that I imagine is standing by 
my side. It is strange how these experi¬ 
ences make tracks in our brains which 
continue to function long after the orig¬ 
inal cause has been withdrawn.” 

At this point in the conversation there 
came a timid knock at the front door, and 
Mrs. Browning went to answer it. 

“ Please, ma’am,” said a childish voice. 
“We want to know if we can put flowers 
on Peter’s grave when he dies just as we 
did on Dannie’s. It is awful sad and 


208 PETER 

thrilly, putting flowers on a friend’s 
grave.” 

Mrs. Browning beamed down upon the 
little company of children who crowded 
around the front door. 

“ Why, of course you can,” she said. 
“ That will please Mr. Browning greatly, 
but Peter isn’t dead yet.” 

“ Please, Mrs. Browning,” said another 
voice, “ there is a question we want to ask. 
We want to know if there is a dog heaven 
and if Peter will go there when he dies. 
We asked the minister and he said he 
didn’t think there was one. He said dogs 
had to stay outside on the grass where 
they could scratch fleas, and not dirty up 
the golden streets.” 

At this question Mrs. Browning became 
dumfounded and speechless. She opened 
and closed her mouth several times, but 
no words came. Finally she managed to 


A DOG’S LOVE 209 

stammer, “ Well, well, children, that is a 
question. I’m sure I don’t know. I 
guess we shall have to ask Mr. Browning; 
you know, he is an authority on dogs.” 

“Of course Peter will go to the dog 
heaven when he dies,” said Mr. Browning 
decidedly, ignoring the first part of the 
question and bearing down hard on the 
second. He had been standing in the 
study door all the time listening to the 
conversation. 

“ Please,” said another voice, “ will 
Peter be happy in the dog heaven? ” 

“ Certainly he will,” returned Mr. 
Browning decidedly as he advanced into 
the hall to take a real part in the conver¬ 
sation. “ Why, Peter will have the best 
kennel and the biggest bone in the whole 
place.” 

This announcement was greeted by a 
chorus of deep sighs of satisfaction. 


210 


PETER 


“ Please, Mr. Browning, there is an¬ 
other question we want to ask-” 

But Mr. Browning was a true Yankee, 
so he parried with a question of his own. 

“ How many of you children are 
there? ” he asked. “ Let’s count noses.” 

“ Well,” said the oldest one of the in¬ 
terlocutors, “ there’s me, I’m Sally 
Brown, and my brother Tommy, and 
there’s Mary Baker and Billy Baker, and 
Henry Jones and little Peter Smith. He 
had to come along because his name is 
Peter.” 

“ I has to come ’cause my name is 
Peter,” reiterated the small urchin. 

“ That’s fine,” said Mr. Browning, 
reaching his hand into his pocket and 
jingling some change with a sound that 
was most tantalizing to six small pairs of 
ears. “If I have counted right, there 
are six of you. Now here is thirty cents 



A DOG’S LOVE 


211 


which I will give to Sally. You all go 
over to the store and Sally will get each 
one of you an ice-cream cone.” 

“ Oh, oh! ” said several voices, but the 
persistent interrogator continued, “ There 
is one more question I want to ask-” 

“ If you run right along,” said Mr. 
Browning ignoring the question, “ you 
will get over to the store before the choco¬ 
late is all gone. If you wait, you may 
have to take some other kind which you 
don’t like as well.” 

The thought of losing out on chocolate 
was so appalling that all other questions 
were forgotten and six pairs of small feet 
clattered merrily down the walk to the 
accompaniment of six excited voices. 

“ Well, we had a close call that time,” 
said Mrs. Browning, shutting the door 
hurriedly. “ Why did you tell them such 
fibs about the dog heaven? ” 



212 


PETER 



ALL OTHER QUESTIONS WERE FORGOTTEN 


“ I’m not so sure they are fibs,” re¬ 
turned Mr. Browning. “ I wish you 
would go and get the Bible on my desk 
and read me that passage from the 
fifteenth chapter of First Corinthians.” 

Mrs. Browning brought the Book of 
books, and seating herself in her easy- 
chair read the desired passage: 

And that which thou sowest, thou 
sowest not that body that shall he, but 































A DOG’S LOVE 


213 


bare grain, it may chance of wheat, or of 
some other grain. 

But God giveth it a body as it hath 
pleased him, and to every seed his own 
body. 

All flesh is not the same flesh: but 
there is one kind of flesh of men, another 
flesh of beasts, another of fishes, and an¬ 
other of birds.’ ” 

“ Well,” said Mr. Browning after a 
long pause, “ that means that God gave 
Peter his little body and put into it that 
great courage, loyalty, and love which we 
know as Peter. And if He did that much 
for him, He will look out for him for all 
time. A human father would do as much, 
and God is not less just than man.” 

Further discussion of this point was in¬ 
terrupted by the ringing of the telephone, 
and Mr. Browning hurried to answer it. 

“ What,” Mrs. Browning heard him 
say, “ are you sure? You’re not joking, 
are you? You don’t think there is any 


214 PETER 

doubt about it, do you? Well, that’s 
great! When can we come over? To¬ 
morrow? Indeed we will. Thank you so 
much for calling. That’s a wonderful 
piece of news. Good-bye.” And Mr. 
Browning hung up the receiver. 

“ Betty,” he cried, “ I have just had 
the most wonderful news. Doc Benson 
says that Peter is a lot better. He has 
removed the bullet, and the danger of 
blood poisoning is past. He said he didn’t 
want to raise our hopes until he was sure. 
We can go over and see him to-morrow.” 

“ That is too good to be true,” said Mrs. 
Browning, “ but if Doc Benson says so, 
it must be true. I am so glad, Lawrence, 
you’ll have your little Peter back again, 
he meant so much to you.” 

“ I guess I will go down cellar and split 
some kindling,” said Mr. Browning. “ I 
noticed yesterday the supply was getting 


A DOG’S LOVE 215 

low.” And he hurried downstairs to do 
this daily chore. 

But it was some time before Mrs. 
Browning heard the whack of the ax, for 

t 

Mr. Browning was sitting on the chop¬ 
ping-block wiping tears of joy from his 
face. He had hurried to the cellar in 
order that Mrs. Browning might not see 
his emotion. If any matter-of-fact man 
had peeked in at the cellar window at just 
that time, he would have thought Mr. 
Browning a sentimental old fool, but the 
master would not have cared, for Peter 
was coming home. Presently there was 
the sound of the whack of the ax on the 
kindling-wood and Mr. Browning’s pleas¬ 
ant baritone floated up to the rooms above 
as he sang an old dog ditty: 

“ Vhere, oh, vhere hass my leetle tog gone, 
Vhere, oh, vhere might he be, 

Mit hiss ears cut short, and hiss tail cut long, 
Vhere, oh, vhere might he be? ” 


216 PETER 

Then there was more kindling-splitting 
and another dog ditty: 

“ Old dog Tray’s ever faithful, 

Grief cannot drive him away, 

He’s gentle, he is kind, I’ll never, never find, 
A better friend than old dog Tray.” 

“ It is strange,” remarked Mr. Brown¬ 
ing as he stood by the sink half an hour 
later washing the perspiration from his 
face, “ that one little dog should make 
such a great difference in this household. 
I would not have believed it.” 

“ Yes,” returned Mrs. Browning. “ I 
sometimes think that a dog’s love and 
loyalty entirely eclipses our own. Why, 
sometimes when I see Peter looking up at 
your eyes with that questioning troubled 
look on his face, he seems almost human.” 

“ Yes,” returned Mr. Browning, 
“ Peter’s love humbles me and makes me 
ashamed of my own. If we loved God as 


A DOG’S LOVE 


217 


much as our dogs love us, we should be 
better Christians than we are. What is 
more, if we loved our dogs as we ought 
to, the dumb creatures in this old world 
would be much happier than they are 
now. Love is religion, whether it be love 
for God, man, or the dumb animals, and 
without love our religion becomes 4 as 
sounding brass and tinkling cymbals.’ 
Never were truer words sung than those 
of Coleridge in The Rime of the Ancient 
Mariner: 

“ * He prayeth best who loveth best, 

All things both great and small, 

For the dear God who loveth us, 

He made and loveth all .’ 55 








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OCT 5 


1931 





































































